Outpost Alpha
by Mr. Iowa
Summary: A lot of information can be lost in 97 years, just ask the survivors of the Ark, surrounded by people who have no idea what happened to the world. But Arkadia's about to find out that the Grounders aren't the only people who've lost their history.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there people! I recently got caught up on The 100 thanks to a combination of Netflix, Amazon Instant video and the CW site. Freaking love it so far. And being a guy who's written a fair amount of fan fiction material (though mostly Young Justice related) I had an idea, something I had to put to paper (or word processor, at least). To be honest, I think it's a cool idea, but I would like to get some feedback on the whole thing, so feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think!**

* * *

 **Outpost Alpha  
** **2149  
**

If there was one thing you could count on at the Outpost, it was at least a chance to sleep in peace. 97 years and some odd months after humanity was nearly destroyed at least people still appreciated a sound 8 hours, something Jarin Taylor was deeply grateful for. But tonight wasn't one of those nights. Tonight, the loudspeakers would sound the news that would change the future for his entire people.

" _The stations are on the ground. Repeat the stations are on the ground."_ Commander Williams voice boomed through the underground city's static-y speaker system, rousing Jarin from his slumber. Sliding his 5'11" frame off the lightly padded slab he called a bed he walked over to his closet, grabbing his gray fatigues before making his way toward the exit. He sat down just inside the threshold opposite the full length mirror and saw the rather severe bedhead he had woken up with. He quickly tried matting down his shaggy brown hair, hoping it looked at least moderately presentable as the voice came back over the speakers after the brief delay. _"All Senate members please report to the command center immediately for an emergency session."_ Jarin groaned as he bent down to tie his boots. He stood up once that was done and buttoned his fatigues as the commander continued. _"Repeat all Senate members to the command center. All surface recon teams report to your designated areas."_

Jarin wiped the last remnant of sleep from his mind, pulled open the heavy steel door and stepped out in the hallway. Walking outside his room, he felt the buzz of surprise and the excitement of the residents in his wing. No one living in the base had ever heard from any of the stations, unless you counted periodic night time sightings with their high powered telescope. Even their ancestors only ever had brief contact with the private research station that exploded just a few months after the bombs ravaged the planet. And now the other 12 were here; on the ground, just like them, not even two months after their first dropship arrived on the ground. Needless to say, many shocked whispers were flying in the dead of night, bouncing around the underground concrete tunnels his people called home, and they didn't start to dim until he reached the supply depot where he was greeted by the sight of the rest of his squad, all huddled around one of the Humvees, each asking the same question: _What are we going to do now?_

Jarin smirked and shook his head when his team didn't notice his arrival. He couldn't fault them given the monumental news that was just announced. But he figured giving them something to do would be better than having them sit around chatting like a bunch of old women after church. "Squad, fall in!"

The younger privates immediately snapped to, breaking away from the group huddle. The longer serving members, having known Jarin for years, in some cases since birth, were a touch slower in following suit. As the men and women under his command fell into line he gave them the once over. Thankfully, most of them had been awake enough to hear the commander's order. Much like he assumed he himself looked, the rest of his squad all seemed to have just rolled out of bed.

He tilted his head to stare at an undone button on Trent Jackson's uniform. "Miss something there, corporal?"

Trent looked down, confused, and then he saw what Jarin was referring to. "Oh, right. Sorry about that sir."

While Trent re-buttoned his uniform Lieutenant Taylor looked over the rest, finding some similarly minute problems, but given the suddenness of the news, Jarin didn't fault any of them. Still, he couldn't resist messing with Trent in front of the squad, after all, he still owed him for that little poker stunt the week before. Taylor looked up and down the line of 11 soldiers finally coming to a stop on Specialist Jennifer Blake who was still trying to adjust her blonde hair in the ponytail she had hastily worked it into.

The specialist caught him staring, her hands still behind her head. "What?"

Taylor tilted his head, giving her a mock glare. "Where the hell is Simmons?"

Blake looked down the row, counting up, realizing that they were in fact missing a member of their squad. She stepped back into line before answering. "Probably taking a shower, lieutenant."

"Yeah, gotta at least look clean when the ladies from the stations see his ugly mug." Cracked Lopez, the hulking mechanic, from the other end of the row.

David Grissom, the team's sniper, chimed in next. "He'll need all the help he can get, that's for sure!"

"Very funny guys. Ha ha." Private Simmons deadpanned reply drew the team's attention as he filed in next to Blake.

Jarin noticed the wet mess of black hair on Simmons head. "Funny, and also correct."

"Sorry I'm late sir. With the news and all I thought I ought to come ready to go."

"Don't worry, I don't think we'll be heading off, especially not without a plan or even a general direction. I mean, I'm good, but I'm not 'magically know where a freakin' space station will land after a century in orbit' good." The team shared a light laugh at the LT's rebuke of Simmons before Taylor address the whole team. "But the news is why we're hear. Like the rest of you, I plan on having our squad be the lead team that goes out to wherever the hell the stations landed. We have the best trackers," he nodded to Grissom and Jackson to his left. "a kick-ass engineer in one Jenn Blake who could, and has, turned a damn toaster into a deadly explosive, and the best shooting record in the whole division. There is no way in hell I'm letting this team get left behind. Now I want full inventory on all our expedition supplies, including ammunition, and a maintenance check on the two Humvees. Lopez, I'll leave that last part to you. Simmons, you're going over medical with Jenkins. Carver, you take Williams to cover weapon checks. Ramirez and Mason are on food and basic supplies. Blake and Private Smith will handle the radio and other tech we might have to bring along. Grissom, Davidson, and Jackson, break out the maps and plan a route north past Sumter. Jackson, you'll need to run up to records and grab my dad's map."

"The one from you dad's scout to DC?"

"Yep."

"Any particular reason you think we'd be heading that way, sir?"

"Because, and keep in mind I'm not exactly supposed to know this, that's where those pods they sent down a few weeks ago landed. If I were them, I'd want to land as close to my people as possible. Dropping a space through the atmosphere probably wouldn't be that simple, but it's a safe bet that is their goal. Any other questions?" With the silence as an answer he gave his last command. "Then you know your jobs. I want a green light from this squad by the time I get back from command. Get to work people."

The squad saluted, and Jarin returned it, before breaking out into their assigned tasks, moving efficiently to fulfill their CO's orders. Jarin quickly turned and headed out of the room, making a beeline for the elevator up to the command center where he was sure the Senate was completely up in arms about the news. They never did like change, and they were about to get a lot of it dumped on them all at once.

* * *

Commander Williams was having a hard time corralling the riled up Senate. He felt out of place in his fatigues in a chamber full of civilians, not to mentioning being the only person in the room who had actually served in the military. At 6'5" and built like a tank he definitely looked the part, too bad the Senate didn't pay his usually commanding presence much mind. Williams very much disliked that nearly Senate meetings he had to speak with a tone similar to that of new recruits. Pushing that aside he stepped up to the center podium to step in now before they devolved further into chaos.

"People, please! Take your seats." He paused for a moment as the senators stopped clamoring and found their chairs. "I know that the news is rather sudden, but we knew this day was coming. We have a lot to discuss and we need to make some big decisions today. Now that we have a sense of order I'm turning the session over to Dr. Sara Anderson for the briefing. Doctor, if you wouldn't mind telling us what's going on out there."

Dr. Anderson stepped up to the center podium, having to lower the mic quite a few inches to accommodate her much smaller frame. Straightening her glasses, she addressed the Senate. "Thank you, Commander." She pressed a switch on the podium, causing the lights around the room to dim as the projector illuminated the screen above and behind her. "As you were briefed several weeks ago, a drop ship came down from the stations and landed near the ruins of Washington D.C, followed shortly by what the radar in Outpost Bravo tracked as a one-man drop pod. Three weeks after that, a second ship also came down in the same vicinity. We don't know if there were any survivors from any of these ships, but there is enough to suggest that at least a few people made it safely to the ground."

Commander Williams saw an arm shoot up. He put a hand on Doctor Anderson's shoulder to pause her presentation, directing her attention to the similarly bespectacled man in the back.

"How do you know that doctor?"

"Because as of 3:15 a.m. this morning," She flipped the image on the projector to that of the radar readout from Outpost Bravo. "the station megastructure itself made entry into the atmosphere before breaking apart above D.C. It was on a controlled path, with thrusters controlling re-entry. That means it was a planned re-entry, and the only plausible explanation for them to risk coming back down is that either that their people survived or the satellite structure was no longer sustainable or maybe some combination of two. While their descent was clearly a planned one, as you should all know, we haven't been able to contact any of the stations since the bombs fell 97 years ago thanks to our communication facility being destroyed in the bombardment, nor have we received any data from the stations since the Polaris station was destroyed several weeks after that. So we do not know the full situation regarding their sudden reappearance on Earth. After all, the NASA records show the stations were meant to be orbiting Earth for at least another few decades. But very little goes according to plan when something as colossal as a space station is concerned. Whatever the cause, we have reason to believe that there are survivors from the stations descent through the atmosphere, and the science team and I are asking the Senate to allow Commander Williams to send scouts to find the crash site, assist any survivors and send any data on their situation back to us."

"And exactly how many soldiers would be a part of this mission?" The room quieted at the question as the Senate president made her way from the back of the room.

Now it was the commander's turn to take the podium. "Our current plan is to send three squads north to DC after a supply stop over at Fort Sumter. Based on-"

"Three squads, commander?" The president's tone made her stance quite clear. "Seems a massive waste to send those soldiers, and those resources, in the wrong direction when you know our enemy is to the west."

Several senators murmured in agreement. Hoping to quell the schism before it could begin, the commander offered a compromise. "Then perhaps three squads are too many. But given that our city's entire reason for existing is to help those stations when they made it back to the ground, it is our duty to find out what happened and how we can help, no matter the threat we face in the west." He saw a number of approving nods in the audience. "While I wouldn't classify this as a 'major' military action needing Senate approval, I would like to have our efforts be as transparent as possible. If only one squad is deemed sufficient, then I propose sending Lieutenant Taylor's team on this assignment. They can cover ground quite a bit faster than the other teams and have more experience scouting in unfamiliar terrain to the northwest already. Is that agreeable, madam President?"

She nodded. "One team should suffice Commander. I just hope that team isn't picked because your son is a part of it, commander."

The commander exhaled, trying to keep up at least a cordial appearance with a President he didn't quite care for. "Ma'am, regardless of the team my son is on, Taylor's squad has been instrumental in scouting several pre-war locations and procuring much needed supplies for this city. They're the best team for this mission, period."

The president put her hands up, sensing the annoyance in the commander's tone. "Personnel is always your call, commander, just wanting to make sure your decision is a sound one." The president took her seat in the front row, straightening her jacket before looking up to the commander. "But run us through the rest of the information before we discuss on the matter any further amongst ourselves."

"Very well." Williams drew a breath. "At 0315 this morning, radar from Outpost Bravo picked up the re-entry of the 12 stations. Upon re-entry the stations broke apart from the main superstructure. Some exploded from the force of the entry. Before they dropped out of Bravo's radar range, we were tracking three surviving stations, and given their speed and trajectory, we have a plotted a rough position of their projected landing." Williams nodded to the tech, who called up a map of D.C. area on the projector. "If our projections are correct, the largest of the stations landed near a lake in old Alexandria, just southwest of the D.C. ruins. That would be Lt. Taylor's main objective. He and his team would take two of the Humvees north through Bravo and then on to Fort Sumter."

The president cut in again. "That still leaves about 500 miles of travel for them in uncharted territory."

"Not entirely uncharted, ma'am. Jarin Taylor's father, Sergeant Jacob Taylor, led a scouting mission to the north out of Fort Sumter some 35 years ago right after we captured it, just before we made contact with the Remnants." The room hushed at their mention. "He and his team made contact with a group of survivors and were taken to their leader, someone called The Commander, and spent three weeks with his people before coming into radio contact with Mount Weather. Things went south for Taylor's group after that."

"Speaking of Mount Weather," the president cut in. "Do you think they could assist these station survivors?"

"Unknown at this time, ma'am, but I would guess not if I had to state an opinion. It's not even clear how those people survived that long. They weren't even supposed to be there. Apparently a guard for the facility tried to save as many lives as he could and brought them in as the bombs started dropping and sealed the doors and vents. But the residual radiation should have killed them within a decade. In all likelihood, they've been dead for a long time."

The president waved her hand. "Then back to Sergeant Taylor's expedition, what do we know?"

As you know, in 2087 during our second wave of expansion out of this city we stumbled into a group of marauders in Fort Sumter who had managed to cobble together rudimentary defenses, which caught our men totally off guard. Despite 37 deaths we took the fort and established a small trading outpost with our surface allies. Thankfully, the locals were just as glad to see the marauders dead as we were and as you know, have made Sumter a thriving agriculture center for us. 27 years later in 2114, we used it as a staging area for recon missions along the east coast. Sergeant Taylor was sent to the DC ruins where he and his team documented the region on a map which they brought back after the three month mission. As you know at the same time our workers at the western oil refinery reported massive troop movements before The Remnants took the facility. Given the seriousness of that threat to the west we never sent another team back to DC. But we still have Taylor's maps, and while much has undoubtedly changed in that time, they show some promising travel routes. Given the tree cover, however, the squad would need to travel on foot from Sumter to the DC ruins. Based on their proficiency in the field and the Sergeant's own travel logs, we estimate they could reach the station's crash site just inside of a month."

"And Lieutenant Taylor's team is on board with this plan?"

Williams smiled. "If I know Mr. Taylor, he's standing right outside waiting for the green light from you, ma'am."

There was a sudden knock on the door and a muffled voice. "What he said! Just give the word, ma'am!"

Many of the senators shook their heads at the young soldier's enthusiasm. The memory of his address to the Senate a few months ago still fresh in their minds. The president looked around the room. "So, I assume the Commander's plan is satisfactory?" After seeing the nods around the room she turned to Williams. "Then I don't think you'll get any objections from the Senate, Commander and it seems Lieutenant Taylor is chomping at the bit. Tell him and his team good luck from all of us."

* * *

Jarin stood outside the rusting gray steel door along the opposite wall under the watchful eyes of the Senate guardsmen. Leaning up against the concrete tunnel wall he felt the need for sleep start to creep back in, but it was quickly pushed back by the creak of the door opening from within. He quickly stood at attention and saluted as Commander Williams exited the chamber.

"What's the word, sir?"

"At ease, Lieutenant." The commander nodded down the hall. "Walk with me."

The two started down the corridor as the rest of the senate filed out of the room. After a few silent paces, Taylor looked up at his commanding officer. "So, did we get the greenlight?"

Williams nodded. "You did. I assume your team is already on mission prep?"

"Yes sir, they're in the supply depot already." Taylor stepped aside as the two boarded the freight elevator. Jarin pressed the floor button before continuing. "I only heard snippets sir, but is it true we'll be going north alone?

"It is. The president convinced the senate that sending three squads, as I had planned, was a waste of resources when the fight could hit our door at any time."

"Do you really think the Remnants will attack us, sir? They haven't made a move in a long time. Last time they did, I hadn't even been born yet."

"Couldn't tell you that, even if we knew lieutenant. But the Remnants are some scary bastards. Our intel says they're based out of a massive underground base beneath the old Denver Airport. From there, they've taken over the whole Great Plains and Midwest regions, even parts of the Rust Belt, killing anyone who tries to oppose them. They pick off tribes and clans one a time, burning off any clan or family tattoos and markings, breaking up whole settlements to keep resistance to a minimum. Bloody and violent way of doing things, but effective so far after maybe 40+ years of expansion. But they stopped at our western border after taking the oil refinery. I think our level of society, as rudimentary as it is, isn't something they're used to facing. Plus, blowing up an oil field probably put the fear of God in them for a good while. But sooner or later they will strike again. Hopefully the firepower we've managed to show during our few skirmishes will give them pause."

As the elevator came to a halt, Taylor reached down to open the cargo door. "I don't think a few A-10s and some tanks are going to scare people with F-35s, sir, with all due respect."

Williams shook his head as the duo continued walking. "Not for long at any rate. We definitely won't make it another 35 years without a full on war, that's for sure. This isn't public knowledge, but they've been bolstering their troops along our western border for the last several months and they still refuse to meet with our president. That's why I have a job for your team, other than finding the stations, anyway."

The two reached the depot and Taylor opened the door for his commanding officer. Simmons noticed the commander first.

"Commander on deck!"

The squad fell into line, standing at attention as the commander descended the short staircase to the main floor. "At ease soldiers." He put his hands behind his back, pacing back and forth in front of the squad. "Today is a very important day in our people's history, as you no doubt heard over the comm. Those people have literally fallen out of the sky, and it's up to us to make sure they're safe. At first light, your team will drive north to Outpost Bravo, the old Robbin's Air Base, stopping to re-fuel and finally continue on to Fort Sumter where you will relinquish the two Humvees to the req officer and his men. You will continue on foot to the projected landing site of the main station. Full mission briefs will be sent with you in the morning before your departure. But I want to speak to you tonight about something that isn't going to be in the briefing, something I don't want the Senate, the president, even your fellow soldiers to know about." The squad looked at each other uneasily, uncertain where this was going. "While your primary objective is finding and assisting any station survivors, your secondary objective is to secure Andrews Air Force Base, recover any supplies or technology you can find and ready the base as much as you can as a staging area for our ground troops and civilian population."

Jackson was just as surprised as rest of the team. "We expecting trouble sir?"

"I will speak plainly. You all know the threat our people are facing. The Remnants have us outmanned and heavily outgunned if the estimates are even close to accurate. If push came to shove, they'd shove and we'd be dead. And since we figured out where they're from, then it's a safe bet that they have a good idea where we call home as well. If they attack, we will have nowhere to run. Instead of retreat into the tunnels to die of starvation, I would rather have an escape hatch, so to speak; some place to move our people in the event of an invasion from the west. While our old boat may not have the juice to go far on the open ocean, we should be able to squeeze one or two evac runs up and down the coast out of her. But based on the old Air Force databases we sifted through up at Bravo, I believe that Andrews can not only be that safe harbor, but it may still hold some valuable technology that could win us a war, if it ever came to that."

Taylor spoke for his team. "How so, sir?"

"We know that Andrews survived the bombs thanks to their prototype missile defense system. It was based on an Israeli missile screen from the early 2000s, highly effective. If the men stationed there did their jobs and followed protocol much of the stations equipment would have been sealed. Our military intranet connection showed the main computer was still functioning before the network went dark. Obviously, the radiation would have killed any personnel who didn't have the radiation resistant genetics our ancestors were screened for, but the structures and computer systems should be relatively functional given the bases power source. And when I say equipment I'm talking tanks, fighter jets, bombs, anti-aircraft batteries, things that will make the Remnants run screaming back to their mountain. So, can you find and secure that base?"

"We'll do our best sir."

"Good. Now, finish your mission prep and then catch a few hours of sleep. Report back to the depot by 0630."

"Yes sir!" The squad snapped to and saluted the Commander.

Williams returned the salute and walked out of the depot. As the doors on the elevator back to the command level closed he couldn't shake the feeling of just how badly this whole operation could go. 500 miles on foot fighting the weather and god knows what kind of enemies along the way. He just prayed he wasn't sending those kids, those soldiers, out into the wilderness for nothing.

* * *

 **To give you a timeline idea of when this is taking place, I have it pegged at pretty much the start of season 2. How much these characters will interact with main plot of the show is yet to be determined, however since this is still a work in progress. Let me know what you think of the intro so far in a review!**


	2. Chapter 2

A loud, low-pitched buzz permeated the vehicle loading bay, causing Jarin to look up and away from the map he had been studying in the passenger seat. The massive bay doors rose slowly, letting the bright morning sun stream in through the threshold. The squads in both Humvees scrambled for their sunglasses. Rod Lopez slid on the silver-rimmed aviators that he'd won off Jenkins in last week's poker game before turning the engine over on the Humvee. The vehicle roared to life, helped along by a little extra gas from Lopez, who smiled at the feeling of raw horsepower at his fingertips.

Private Williams leaned up from the middle captain's seat behind Lieutenant Taylor. "Hey LT, you want anyone on the gun?"

Jarin looked back at the gunner's position in the middle of the vehicle's roof. He thought for a quick moment before replying. "If there were any hostiles this far down the panhandle Williams, we'd know, trust me. From here 'til Bravo we're in green territory, so just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride private."

Williams slumped back in the seat. "Will do, sir." He ran his hand over the freshly buzzed blonde hair atop his head, something his dad, the base commander had practically ordered him to maintain since he joined the military just a few months ago.

Taylor folded up the map and tilted his seat back slightly, adjusting his shoulder in the cushioned back Rod had installed a few weeks ago. "Lopez, I know the commander may not have approved, but I certainly love the new seats. Ever going to tell me where you found them?"

Lopez grinned as he dropped the vehicle into gear, taking the lead in front of the other squad. "Remember the underground parking structure at that hospital this past spring?"

Taylor looked to his left, surprised at his response. "Wait, you actually took them out of that Cadillac?"

Lopez smiled. "Nailed it. I had my grandma stitch together some new seat covers, but other than that I got the whole assembly installed. Still working on the power tilt, but the manual works for now."

"How the hell did you get them back and I not notice?" Jarin turned back to make sure the seats behind him were the same custom job. "You must have pulled them out or, what, maybe two different vehicles? Who you'd con into hauling them home for you?"

Lopez shrugged behind the wheel. "I have my ways man, I have my ways."

Jarin scoffed and shook his head, leaning back into the seat to get comfortable for the ride ahead. The group rode in silence for a time, staring off into the open country as they barreled over the dirt road. Unlike most of the squad, Williams had only been out on daylight missions on a handful of occasions, so the sights were still new to him. The last time he was topside he certainly didn't remember the tall grass blanketing nearly everything in sight, having made his last day run with his father two winters ago.

"God, seeing that much green is freakin' crazy.

His words attracted the lieutenant's attention. "Sure beats the hell out of concrete walls 24/7 doesn't it? This is your first day run Jason?"

"Not quite, but it has been a while sir. I haven't been topside during daytime since I went with my dad on a trip up to Bravo."

"Do me a favor Jason, and drop the 'sir 'when we're not at base. You're new to our little band of misfits, but we're not as formal as your dad would like us to be. When we're out in the shit, then yeah, I'm the guy in the charge, but in here we're just a group of dudes." He heard Blake's cough from the back row of seats. "We're just a group of dudes, _and a woman_ , out for a drive."

Jason nodded, looking out the window. His eyes as the group roared past the recycling center and group of 20 or so villagers waved as they passed.

"There weren't people living there last time I was out here."

Blake spoke up from the back row. "Yeah, they moved in during the winter, mostly settlers leaving that old amusement park in Orlando. As big as that place is, their population is getting a little bigger than they can handle so they reached out to us for help moving settlers into key positions. The recycling center is one of the newer ones. We only just got the plant running again last spring. The solar and wind power retrofits were a bitch and a half, let me tell you, but I think it'll make a nice spot for a town once they get a couple harvests under their belt."

Lopez chimed in from the driver's seat. "Not to mention having a strategic position halfway between Orlando and the Outpost will be a nice thing to have."

Simmons cut in next from behind Lopes. "Plus the value of the scrap metal we can start salvaging. Don't think we'll have a metal shortage again for a long time."

Jarin nodded. "All excellent points. Now if you don't mind, please keep it down to a dull roar. I'll be trying to catch a few z's before it's my turn at the wheel."

Four hours, and a couple hundred miles, later the ground had made good time on their way to Outpost Bravo at the repurposed Robbins Air Force Base. After Orlando the roads were particularly rough, putting the suspension on both vehicles to the test. Jason was stunned that most of his squadmates had somehow managed to fall asleep given the jarring ride. When Jarin stirred in the passenger he was just happy to finally have someone to talk to, seeing as how Lopez seemed to be more of the 'keep to himself' type of guy.

"Have a good nap, LT?"

Jarin grunted in reply as he popped the seat back upright. "Yeah, just wish the damn rain wouldn't keep washing out the road."

Lopez chimed in on that note. "Yeah, but then what would we give people for jobs? Just think, in a couple years, we'll have a nice road that doesn't suck all the way north to Bravo."

Taylor cracked his neck, twisting from side to side to work out the stiffness. "Well if they could go ahead and already have it done by the time we're back I sure would appreciate it."

Lopez eased off the gas a bit. "We switching drivers?"

"Up to you my man."

Lopez pulled to the side of the road, which in truth was little more than a rough dirt path this far north of Orlando. From Alpha to the city the road was well maintained, usually on a weekly basis by the work details if the weather held out, but now they were in the middle ground between the two centers of their population, which meant very little road maintenance was ever done this far out.

Lopez rolled down the window as the second Humvee pulled up beside them. He leaned out the window to get their attention. "We're switching up!"

In the second vehicle Simmons nodded, leaning down to apply the parking brake while he got out of the driver's seat for Grissom to take over. While the group was switching, with Jarin taking over the first Humvee, Lopez popped open the glove box to pull out a small rectangular devices. Williams was a little shocked to say the least once he recognized what it was.

"Holy crap, you guys have an MP3 player?"

Jarin laughed in the driver's seat. "Heck yeah. Lopez, our resident poker player won it off Charlie Company's CO last year. It's been a very nice addition to the team ever since." He turned his head sideways toward the passenger seat. "You bring the transmitter?"

Jason's shock turned into curiousity. "Transmitter?"

Lopez replied as he pulled out a cord from the glove box. "This guy will play whatever we put on over the FM bandwidth, meaning both vehicles are going to be able to rock out the rest of the way."

Taylor dropped the Humvee into gear. "Lopez, I want some AC/DC and I want it loud."

"You got it boss."

As 'Highway to Hell' kicked up Taylor tore off down the path, taking the lead on the way north through the vast wastes of the Florida ruins. And for the next few hours, including the fuel stop over at Robbins Air Force Base, a.k.a. Outpost Bravo, the two Humvees jammed out to the albums of AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, and the other old rock bands that Taylor and Lopez had crammed into the hard drive of the tiny purple Sony MP3 player.

* * *

 **Outpost Alpha Command Center – 3 weeks later  
** **Nov. 1, 2149**

Commander Williams stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by a network of computers and technicians, working to coordinate the bases power consumption, monitor communications with the camps and settlements in the area, or maintain the radar system. He always liked standing there, even when he had nothing to do, feeling as though he was in the very brain of his entire civilization. But today, he did have a purpose. He placed his hands on the center table, staring down at the backlit map display with the president across from him. The subtle buzz of the computers and their techs faded into the background as the president spoke.

"What is the position of your scout team, Commander?"

Williams pointed to a location south of the DC ruins. "Their last check in was four days ago right at the end of Sumter's radio relay station. They're well beyond the network now, but that was expected. They had made decent time, but were slowed down by a marsh south of the Chesapeake Bay that was much larger than what was on the map. It would seem in that the 35 years since the last scout mission, it has expanded considerably. Still, Taylor reported that by this time they should be at or nearing Richmond, some 100 miles south-southwest of their target location."

"So even if they reach DC, they have no way of contacting us?"

"Not necessarily ma'am. There are several old military sites that would have what they need to build a larger transmitter, to say nothing of any technology salvaged from those sites themselves."

"That's a large gamble Commander."

"With all due respect, ma'am, the whole mission was a gamble from the word go. But Taylor and his team can get the job done. And if they managed to make contact, just think what we could do with an extra few hundred bodies who actually understand the technology we have at our disposal. We might be able to go from scrapping by to actually having the society we all want. And if anything is worth gambling on, Madame President, it's that."

Across from the commander, the president crossed her arms. "Let's just hope that when the new President takes over in a few months that he feels the same."

* * *

 **A/N: So** , **let me know what you think of things so far in a review. These first chapters were more or less a two part of the world set up and the action will kick off in chapter 3.**


	3. Chapter 3

**60 miles north of Richmond, VA  
** **45 miles south of Arkadia  
** **November 1st, 2149**

 _Thwack!_ The sound of Corporal David Grissom chopping away at the thick, overgrown brush with a machete filled the squads' ears. They'd been at it for hours today, rotating in shifts to move slowly and steadily north toward their goal. Barring the massive marsh in the Chesapeake there were still mired in after days of slogging, they would have been to the primary station by now. Unfortunately, it seemed mother nature seemed to have gone even more haywire the farther north they traveled.

Grissom took one last swing at the plants, pausing to gather his breath and wipe the sweat from his forehead. If it wasn't for the fall chill, he'd have been burning up by now. Sheathing the machete, he put his hands on his head, staring out into the forest floor. "God damn, this is some thick brush."

Sergeant Lopez grunted in agreement. "Damn kudzu. The shit's all over the south, you guys remember that mission to Atlanta? Whole damn city was covered with this crap. Just didn't think it would have grown this bad this far north."

"Technically," Simmons piped in. "we're still in the South, at least if we reckoned correctly. A few days ago we passed Richmond, which was actually the capital city of the South way back during the Civil War. If we could have waited a month or two I think the winter would have killed off most of the brush, until the spring at least."

Grissom dropped his hands. "Yeah, but then we'd be walking on snow and that sounds even less appealing than this." He gestured around the crew at the field of green surrounding them.

Again Simmons had a rebuttal. "Probably not, if the weather pattern holds here as it does back home, winters are way probably way warmer than before the bombs. Hundreds of nukes going off at once threw the climate into chaos. I mean, there would probably be some snow, but not as bad as pre-war at least."

David glared at his teammate. "Simmons, would you shut up and let me complain in peace?"

In the back of the group Specialist Jenn Blake suppressed a laugh as she listened to the two bicker back and forth. A strong breeze swept up, rustling the vines on the ground and causing the tree branches to creek against one another. Blake looked up into the empty forest that seemingly went on forever. It was beautiful, if a little intimidating. Amidst the noise, a soft snap of wood drew Blake's attention to the rear of the group. She spun around and quickly brought her assault rifle to bear, dropping to one knee, finding only empty ground behind her. The group tensed at the action, each instinctively reaching for their own weapons.

Jarin came up beside Blake, pistol in hand. "Contact?"

She shook her head and stood up. "Don't know sir, thought I heard something." She narrowed her eyes as she swept her gaze over the forest floor. "It sort of sounded like a foot fall, but it's damn hard to see in all this brush."

Taylor raised his right arm to give the team orders, his hand going in a circle, while his eyes never left the trees as Blake covered the ground. "Eyes up and on the perimeter." Taylor's young team did exactly that, each training a weapon to the exterior of the group. "We're exposed and need to move." Taylor looked around the area, spotting a large swath of fallen trees to the group's left. He nodded in its direction. "We'll head for those trees, should give us some cover. Sergeant Carver, take the machete and cut us a path. Everyone else, move in formation and cover him. Lopez, Grissom, you're on point, flanking the cutters. Got it?"

For a brief moment the noise of the trees and the brush swaying with the breeze was the lieutenant's only answer. "Lopez!" Taylor turned sharply to locate his second-in-command, shock briefly crossing his face as Lopez wasn't standing where he was just a moment ago. But Lopez wasn't the only one missing. "Anyone have eyes on Grissom or Lopez?"

A series of negatives and shaking heads was all he got in reply. He gritted his teeth in frustration. The whole team looked around in confusion until Carver bent down, picking up Lopez's rifle while Williams found Grissom's machete, having not yet given it to the sergeant, in a similar state. A plan quickly formed in Taylor's head.

"We're not alone out here. Everyone partner up, one person has their eyes in the trees, the other on the ground. We're going to fan out and look for a trail. Stay within visual contact of another pair at all times. Call out any contact on the radio. We meet back here in 10." The lieutenant looked around as they quickly paired off. Once the teams were set he turned to Blake. "Move out."

The five pairs quickly set out away from the spot, moving steadily across the ground, searching for clues as to where their teammates had been taken. Blake and Taylor moved back along the group's original route. Jarin scanned the trees, praying he was wrong about the apparent hostile contact.

Blake tapped his shoulder, pointing to the tree on their right. Jarin was puzzled as to what she was on about, at least until she pulled a very cleverly camouflaged rope away from the tree trunk.

She tossed the rope to him. "They're definitely using the trees, sir."

Taylor looked over the rope in his hands. "Doesn't explain how they managed to grab two our guys without anyone noticing."

Blake shrugged. "Whoever they are, they let the wind pick up before they made their move. Probably used the vines to deaden the sound their weapons falling. They're smart, I'll give them that."

Jarin tossed the rope aside, letting it swing back to the trunk of the tree, and the pair continued back along the path they'd cut through the vines only to be knocked sharply to the ground from behind. Taylor braced himself in the soft dirt, but his face landed square on his pistol, causing him to see stars. Blake, being the lighter of the two, was completely thrown off balance, her rifle flying out of her hands. As she scrambled along the ground after her weapon she screamed out in pain as she felt a knife plunge into her shoulder before being violently ripped out. Her attacker flipped her over and she stared up in shock a man, wrapped in vines and sticks, raised his arms above his head before shouting down at her, "Die Mountain bitch!"

Blake tried to move, but was pinned. She closed her eyes she saw the knife start to dive down through the air. Two shots rang out as the bullets from Taylor's pistol ripped clean through the assailant's chest, splattering Blake's face with blood and his lifeless body crumpled on top of her. Jarin stumbled over to his teammate, wiping at the blood running freely from his nose before pushing the dead body off her. She winced sharply as he helped to her a seated position.

"How bad it is Jenn?"

Blake grimaced and tried to move her arm while Taylor looked at the wound through the bloody uniform. She exhaled sharply before chuckling. "Well, I've never been more glad to be a righty than right now."

Taylor shook his head. "You know, if you were as smart as you are tough, then we wouldn't be hundreds of miles from home having to patch you up on the fly."

"Excuse me, but who's the dumbass who looks like he pistol whipped his own face?"

Taylor bent down to pick up her rifle. "Well, at least I didn't lose my weapon and get stabbed in the back."

"Yeah, you're just the fearless leader who broke his nose on his own gun, no big."

"Are you worried I marred this ruggedly handsome face of mind?" Taylor pulled out a rag and a bottle of whiskey from his pack, tearing Blake's uniform just a bit wider to allow access.

"Keep joking while I'm bleeding in the middle of a forest and I might put a few scars on it myself."

"Remind me why I put up with this from a subordinate, Specialist?"

Blake saw, of rather felt, what her CO was doing and braced for the pain, inhaling sharply as Jarin pressed the alcohol soaked rag onto the wound. Exhaling, she answered the question, grateful for a reason to not focus on the pain. "I can think of a few reasons Jay."

Jarin pulled away the rag and examined the wound. "Remember the deal, keep it professional when we're in uniform."

She grimaced as she felt him wipe around the wound. "Hey, you're the one who started using first names, remember?"

"Well, to be fair, I did just see you get stabbed and then almost die at the hands of a murderous asshole, who also called you a bitch, so I think the concern is warranted."

Jenn grabbed Jarin's hand on her shoulder "Hey, I'm fine." They quickly broke the small embrace as they heard the rest of the team running through the brush.

Simmons reaching the injured duo first. "We heard shots. Who got shot?"

Jenkins came up behind his partner, kicking the dead attacker's body. "I think the dead body's your answer, genius."

"Shut it you two." Taylor nodded to the rest of the team as they re-joined the group. "Jenkins, get the kit out. Blake took a knife to her shoulder, it's pretty deep. I already wiped it with some alcohol, but make sure it's cleaned out properly. Wouldn't exactly want to deal with an infection this far from home. And check the knife for poison too. If I'm remembering my dad's journals the people in this area are partial to dipping their blades in some weird stuff."

Jenkins nodded as he laid out a blanket for Blake to lie down on. He opened up his pack, which nearly rivaled the weight of the radio equipment Private Smith was carrying. Finding the field spectrograph, he took a quick sample from the knife from the dead attacker that Jarin had tossed to him. While the machine did it's work Jenkins cleaned Blake's shoulder and prepped the stitch kit. The machine beeped three times, drawing the attention of the team.

Taylor kneeled down beside Jenkins. "Three's good, right?"

Trent nodded. "It's not a full lab analysis, but the knife doesn't appear to have any poison residue."

Jarin let out a long exhale. "Good, one less thing to worry about. You good with the stitches?" Again Trent nodded. "Alright, well work fast." Taylor stood up, looking around the group. Don't suppose anyone found a trail?" No one answered as his eyes found them, until he saw Sergeant Sam Carver motioning for him to follow him away from the group.

The two walked a short distance from the team before the sergeant spoke. "I think I found a trail. It's faint, and very well hidden, but it looks like they're headed in the same direction we are."

Taylor knew what that meant. "They're probably headed to the DC ruins, they have a city there, or maybe their going to Polis, their capital." Taylor put his hands on his head, trying to piece together a plan before Carver caught him staring back at Blake, who was still lying on the ground being worked on.

"She's gonna be fine man, she always is. One of the toughest I've ever served with."

"Yeah, try being her boyfriend." The two stood there in silence for a moment. Jarin always respected Carver, in part because he'd served longer than anyone on the team but Taylor himself, turning down promotion after promotion to stay in the field, not to mention turning a blind a to his CO and a subordinate having a relationship. While Jarin was fairly sure Commander Williams would be fine with he and Blake making a go of things, he would rather not have reason to justify anything to the Outpost's CO.

Getting his mind back on track Jarin looked back at the swath they'd previously cut into the brush before turning to Sam. "So, were they moving slow or hauling ass?"

"They were moving fast, didn't look like stealth was their primary tactic after nabbing our guys. If that's the case then my guess is they want us to follow them. Taking only two makes me think they didn't have the numbers to take us all down. But them not just trying to outright kill us-"

Jarin cut in. "Umm, one of them did try to kill us."

"Key word being 'one', sir. That's not enemy action, that's one man on a suicide run." That the rest ran off with our men would suggest that they're just as unsure of who we are as we are of them. Couldn't tell how many people they have based on the tracks, but they'd have to be huge to move fast enough to get our of line of sight while carrying Lopez and Grissom; those boys aren't exactly small fish."

"I'm still stuck on the nutjob that called Blake a 'Mountain bitch', whatever the hell that means."

Carver mulled it over. "You don't think he meant Mount Weather? Didn't you say there was a big dustup with that place and the people at Polis when you dad's team was up here?"

"That was three decades ago, there's no way the people in that mountain should have lived that long. Hell, they shouldn't even have been there in the first place." He saw Blake getting to her feet and Jenkins fashioning a sling for her arm. "Whatever it means, we need to go get our men back. Preferably _without_ running into an ambush.

Sam nodded. "Works for me."

Jarin looked back at the group as he spoke. "Take me to this trail you mentioned. Looks like Jenkins has Blake ready to go, once we get every repacked, we'll head out."

* * *

A few miles north the men carrying the unconsious Sergeant Lopez and Corporal Grissom slowed as their rear scouts caught up with the main group.

The leader dropped Lopez's dead weight on to the ground. "Tryol, report."

The scout took off his ghillie mask. "Gaeta, the enemy has not followed so far. They are tending to the woman Galen injured in his attack. It seems he failed to kill her"

The leader scoffed. "Galen was a fool, and he died like one. Attacking was not the purpose of our mission" He picked Lopez back up, slinging him over his shoulder. "Come, we must get these two back to Polis. When Lexa returns from the Mountain she will want to question them, find out where they are from."

Tyrol nodded, slipping his mask back on. "So you do not believe they are Skikru?"

The leader nodded. "And not Mountain Men. Their symbols are not the same." He pointed to the NASA logo on Lopez's arm. "Skikru has no such mark. Whoever they are, the Commander will get the truth out of them. But we must get them to Polis before their people attempt to get them back."

* * *

 **A/N: Yeah, lifted those names from a certain series. Let me know what you think of the story so far in a review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**5 miles southwest of Polis  
Nov. 3, 2149**

Sweat was dripping down their foreheads, stinging their eyes, but over two days of near constant running, not to mention Commander Williams borderline insane training regimen during basic, they'd gotten used to it. They moved without talking, their jokes pushed aside in favor of focusing on the only thing that mattered, getting their teammates back. As they traveled in a single file line along the path Carver had located the team was grateful they'd passed the field of vines the night before. No one, not even a solider, is a fan of hacking, slashing, and running through weeds in addition to having to deal with completely soaked pant legs. Since daybreak they'd been moving in the same direction for nearly five hours until Taylor raised a fist, signaling the group to stop. While the rest of the team took the much needed time to gather their breath and stretch their muscles to avoid cramping, Carver approached the lieutenant's position from the rear.

"See something sir?"

Taylor pulled his canteen and a map out of his pack before answering. "No, but we're getting close to Polis. At least, I think so. We running on old intel, but unless they up and moved the city, we're on the right track and the hastily abandoned camp we ran across earlier today only confirms that."

"They may not have moved, but it looks like they've seen some fighting." Carver paused, gulping down a mouthful of water. "Those ruins we skirted passed looked pretty freshly blown up."

The lieutenant dropped to a knee and downed a swig of water. He wiped at the excess that dribbled down the short black stubble of his beard before opening up the map on the ground, reconciling their current position from the morning stop. He pointed to a spot on the map. "We're here, about 5 miles out from Polis, if my dad's notes are right, it looks like they set up their capital in the old metro area between Baltimore and Annapolis."

Carver kneeled down across from Jarin, looking at the map. "Gotta be weird, reading through your dad's old stuff to lead a mission."

Taylor shook his head. "Not really. He used to talk a lot about that mission. Heck, he gave me the scout journal they day I got drafted. Must have read it cover to cover four times before the heart attack got him."

A steady silence developed between the two as they studied the survey map, planning their next move. Carver looked at the rough terrain outline Jarin's dads' team had made of the city and the surrounding area. "We should get off this path. We should assume the city is well fortified and they know we're coming. Based on the map, they were building towers around the walls when your dad was here. And I can only assume they've added even more defenses since then. If it were me, I'd have sentries patrolling both inside and outside the wall in addition to men in the towers."

Taylor nodded. "Agreed." He looked around through the trees, pointing up the hill to the left. "We'll make for the high ground. That rise should give us some good cover. Don't want to get surrounded _and_ be in an indefensible position. Go let the team know the plan. Have them grab some water if they haven't already, we got another couple miles to go before we get to a stopping point."

Carver nodded while Taylor repacked the map and took another pull from the canteen. He made his way to the rear of the line, passing the orders along the way. Half the team broke out their canteens while the rest kept watchful eye on the perimeter. The caution paid off as a man, clad in a patchwork of grey and black cloth, came walking down the path towards Polis. His bearded face was firmly down, as though deep in thought, and he didn't raise his head until the barrel of Carver's gun was three inches from his nose.

Panic momentarily crossed his before he thrust his hands in the air. "Do not shoot! Do not shoot!"

Henley Ramirez, the closest thing the group had to a linguist rushed over. "You speak English?" This was quite the shock indeed for Ramirez, who was still trying to decipher the language they'd heard a few days ago from a passing group they had tailed without notice.

The man nodded, his hands still raised. "Y-Yes. It is the language of our enemy."

That piqued Ramirez's curiosity. "Your enemy?"

"The men in the mountain." The man looked over the group in front of him. "You are not from the mountain. Are you Sky People?"

Lieutenant Taylor, who'd worked his way back to the rear, cut int. "Sky people? Who are 'sky people'?"

When the man pointed to the sky realization dawned on Jarin. "Wait, do you mean the people from the stations?"

The man nodded. "Stations, yes! That is the word they used." His exuberance turned to confusion. "You are also not Sky People?"

Taylor stepped up beside Carver. "It seems we both have a lot of questions, but we need to get off this path so we can talk in more secure location. If I have this man put his gun down, are you going to fight me when I put these on you?" Taylor held up some zip ties, which he was beyond grateful Lopez had talked him into packing.

The man shook his head. Taylor motioned for Carver to lower his rifle and the man dropped his hands in front of him for the lieutenant to tie together. Jarin pointed up the hill and Carver took point. The man followed his lead, as did Taylor and the rest of the team. Once on top of the hill they found a group of massive moss-covered rocks around a clump of stunted trees. Taylor led their captive into the rocks, ordering him to sit while the rest of the team stood watch on the perimeter before Jarin himself sat down across from the bound man.

"Now let's start over. My name is Lieutnant Jarin Taylor. And you are?"

"I am Nyko kom Trikru."

The language Nyko spoke sounded foreign to Taylor. "Kom Trikru?"

"Of the Woods Clan. I must remember to use English, Skaikru has as little knowledge of our language as you appear to have."

Jarin noticed the lingual pattern of the words. "So Skairkru means the station survivors?"

Nyko nodded. "Yes."

"So you've met them?"

Again Nyko nodded. "Many times. Their healers have taught me much. They have been allies in our fight against the Mountain."

"The mountain?"

"The Sky People call it Mount Weather. They have done unspeakable things to my people. But now, thanks to Wanheda, they are all dead."

All this new information had Jarin's mind running circles, but he pushed aside the questions to get to the more important matter. "Why did your people capture two of my men?"

Something seemed to click in Nyko's mind. "The captives are yours? The scouts arrived on horseback last night with prisoners for the Commander to question. They must be your warriors. I had heard our southern scouts picked up your trail in the vines near the marsh boundary nearly a week ago. With our leader in battle there was much confusion about what to do with your people, in case you were from the Mountain. They must have decided to try capture for questioning."

"Capture is one thing, but trying to kill us is another. One of those tried to kill one of us. We had to put him down."

Nyko looked surprised. "If they were sent to capture, they would not have been given orders to kill."

"Well then whoever he was didn't follow his orders and died for that mistake."

By bowed his head, sad to hear of yet more death. "I'm sorry. You must understand, if they truly thought you were from the Mountain, those men would have believed you and your people deserved a fate far worse than death. It does not surprise me your encounter ended in blood. But if he had been told not to attack, and did, your people should not fear reprisal. Lexa would have killed him herself for such a mistake."

"Lexa?"

"She is our Commander, or leader. She united the 12 clans to fight the Mountain Men, to end their slaughter of our people."

"Whatever they did to your people, I just want get my teammates, my friends, back. Do you know where they would be taken?" Nyko refused to answer, looking up at Jarin as the latter got to his feet. Taylor decided to switch tracks. "Nyko, I know there's a lot you don't know and you must have a lot of questions about who we are and where we're from. But you must understand that we are not your enemy. We were sent here to find the station survivors, Skaikru, and help them if we can. Their people and ours share a lot of history; I only want what is best for them. But I can't help them if part of my team is being held prisoner. Do you understand?"

Nyko looked up, unsure how to respond. He studied the man in front of him. A young man in command of warriors, but instead of shooting him like the Mountain Men would, or beating him like the Sky People had done to Lincoln, instead, he was talking and asking for his help. And Nyko knew what the Commander would do to get the information she wanted out of her captives if they did not cooperate. He'd seen her work, treated their wounds more times than he would like to admit. He took a breath and made up his mind.

"What do you need to know?"

* * *

 **Polis  
Prison Barracks  
Nov. 4, 2149**

David Grissom was not someone who was easily intimidated. At 6' 4", there wasn't much that put the fear of God in him, but waking up in a dark, unknown room, while chained to the ceiling was certainly on the list. He looked up at the chains binding his wrists, straining against the blurriness of his vision. He felt a bruise on his neck as he turned from side to side to get a better look at the room as his eyes slowly adjusted, realizing he must have been drugged, repeatedly by the feel of things. While wondering how long he might have been out, he heard a grunt from left. On top of the blurry vision the dark had obscured Lopez's unconscious form the first time Grissom tried to get his bearings. Soon Lopez was trashing at his chains just as David had done.

"Lopez." David tried to calm his friend. "Roderick!"

Hearing his first name seemed to have done the trick. Lopez looked over to his right, blinking repeatedly to try clearing his vision. "David?"

"Yeah, it's me. Keep it down, will you? Whatever they dosed us with gave me one hell of a headache."

"Man, I can't see so good."

"Same here, but it's getting better, probably a side effect of whatever drugs they shoved in us."

Before either could continue the sliding double door split apart, the creaking metal making a high pitched whine that only further agitated their drug induced headaches. Two hulking, masked men entered the room, spears in hand, before taking guard at each side of the door as a smaller woman followed them. David's vision had cleared enough to spot what looked like heavy grease paint covering half her face. Going off his experiences with the tribes back home, she was ready for war.

After staring at them for a moment the woman began circling them. "You're people have given me what I want. Tell me, why were you trying to attack us from behind. Were you going to murder our people while our army was away?

David tried to spin his body around to keep up with her as she circled behind his right shoulder, but the chains made it difficult. "Our people? What the hell are you talking about lady?" The blunt of a spear smacked his side, whipping around to see what hit him. "God, ease up there big guy!" He spun his head around to find the woman again, but Lopez interrupted.

"What my friend means is that we don't even know who you people are, let alone do we want to attack you. And unless you tell us where we are, and what did with the rest of our team, you won't get a damn thing from us."

The woman continued circling. "Feigned ignorance does not impress me. You will tell me everything I want to know. The only question is how long it will take, and how painful the process will be." As she crossed past Lopez's left shoulder she froze, her eyes fixated on the logo on the uniform. She quickly made her way out of the room without so much as a word.

After she left David and Rod worked feverishly to find a way to break their chains, exhausting themselves within 15 minutes. No matter what they did, how they twisted or pulled the chains were simply not going to budge.

David looked up at the chain, his eyes starting to adjust to the dark room. He saw how they'd ran the chain around the building's steel support beam. "Got hand it to them, a pretty well made prison."

"Grissom?"

"Yeah Lopez?"

"Please don't compliment the people that took us prisoner."

The door creaked open again, grabbing both men's attention. Black-clad figured rushed into the room as both soldiers saw the exterior guards body's fall into the open door frame. They braced themselves for the attack, trying to lash out with their feet at their attackers, but their feeble defense was easily overcome. One attacker cranked David's head to the side and jabbed a needle in.

David could almost immediately feel the tranquilizing agents go to work. "Oh not again."

Once the two were knocked out and cut down from one of the masked men tapped his ear. "We have them."

* * *

Nyko raised a hand, telling Carver and Jarin to hold, allowing two sentries on the perimeter of Polis to pass. Dropping his hand, the trio moved into the city.

"For the record sir, I think this is a terrible plan."

"Carver, those are my specialty. If I recall, my stupid plans have saved your life what, four times?"

"Four? I can only think of three."

Taylor cracked a smile as the group slid into a vending stand long deserted for the night. "Keep telling yourself that man. Knowing you owe me that much must really keep you up at night."

Nyko was getting annoyed. "Are your people all this loud? Please, quiet, or we will be caught."

Taylor nodded. "Got it. Lead on."

The three men moved from building to building, sticking to the shadows until finally Nyko stopped, pointing to a building across the way. He noticed the two guards on the ground, either knocked out or dead. "Something is very wrong."

Suddenly, four men, clad all in black, sprinted out of the building, carrying the bodies of Grissom and Lopez. Carver raised his rifle, but Taylor held him back, sticking to the shadow.

"We need to follow, not shoot, it would make this all pretty damn pointless if we accidentally killed them."

The trio bolted after the men, following their path through the city. Whoever they were, Carver noted, they knew the lay of the land remarkably well, avoiding all the patrols with ease. Clearing the edge of the city both groups slowed, the kidnappers showing no signs they suspected they had been followed. Jarin held up his group as he heard the other group speaking. The lieutenant looked puzzled as he saw the leader touch his ear before speaking again, but not to the men in front of him. Without a word the kidnappers ran into the forest, the darkness shrouding their movements. The trio ran up to where they had been standing.

"Holy crap." Jarin voiced was tinged with surprise, his mind making the connection in what he saw, and what it meant.

Carver turned back to his teammate. "What is it?"

"They have radios."

Nyko spoke up. "If that is true, then I do not know who they are. The Mountain Men are all dead, Sky Crew wears no such clothing, and they're heading east, away from Arkadia."

"Carver, go get the team, I will meet you back here. Tell them to get ready to run. Again."

As Sam ran off into the forest Jarin turned to Nyko. "Thank you for your help. Don't suppose you're up for a little more?"

Nyko shook his head. "My place is here, Jarin Taylor. Whoever took your friends are not my people." The two shook hands. "Follow them with caution, but I hope you find your friends alive at the end of all this. There has been far too much death these last few months."

"You're good man Nyko kom Trikru so try to stay alive, alright? When we get back, I'd like to know there's someone who can tell your Commander to not shoot us on sight."

Nyko smiled. "I doubt Lexa would listen to her old healer on such matters, but I will do what I can."

Nyko made his way back into Polis and Jarin stared down the dark forest before him. It was going to be an even longer night than he thought.

* * *

 **A/N: As usual, let me know what you thought of the chapter, and the story thus far, in a review!**


	5. Chapter 5

It was the dead of night when Carver returned to the group, alone, to tell them what had happened in the city.

Trent Jackson, the sniper to Grissom's scout, facepalmed. "God, leave it to Grissom to get kidnapped not once, but _twice_ on the same damn mission!"

The troop groaned as Carver got them on their feet, none were too pleased their brief respite from days of tracking their teammates through the forest.

Sam made his way to Private Brian Smith, the team's radio specialist. "Hey man, we don't know how long we're gonna be following them. You going to be able to lug your gear solo or you want to swap packs quick before we head out?"

Smith shook his head and adjusted the straps on his shoulder. "I can handle it sergeant. If I need to switch I'll let you know."

Carver nodded, making his way back to the front. Once everyone was ready they quickly made their way to the lieutenant, who was waiting in the bushes Carver had seen the kidnappers run in to.

Taylor did a quick head count to be doubly certain no one else was missing before issuing orders. "Trent, you take point. I found their trail moving south/south-east for a good ways before doubling back so it should be easy enough to follow. I don't think they cared about leaving a trail."

Blake looked quizzically at her commanding officer. "How do you know that?"

"They clothing they were wearing would probably stop any one of the locals from spotting them at night and by morning they'd be too far away to follow. But we have something the locals don't: night vision goggles. Sergeant Carver, I want you on the rear and Mason right behind Trent to use the pair of goggles we brought to keep an eye out for whoever it is we're after. We're already at least 30 minutes behind them and the now the terrain a lot better then we do. Let's move."

The team quickly set off away from Polis, following the direction Taylor pointed them toward. True to what the lieutenant had said, Trent had no trouble following the path the kidnappers had taken and the troop was able to pick up the pace as dawn broke on the horizon, the light filtering through the trees. They slowed down as the forest thinned out closer to shore, only stopping when they found suddenly themselves on a rocky beach which was a rather stark contrast to the woods they'd been traversing for nearly a month. The stiff breeze rolling off the bay was a welcome distraction from the stiffness of their muscles.

While most of the team hunkered down along the tree line and broke out the MREs, Trent walked further down the beach, trying to find the tracks that had led them out on the beach. Seeing the waves washing back and forth across the rocks he threw down his rifle and yelled in disgust. "Just fucking great!"

Taylor, thinking no one should go off alone, had silently followed the corporal. "Hey, what the hell man?"

Trent jumped at the lieutenant's voice. "Jesus, let a guy know you're there first, huh?" He dropped down, putting on knee on the ground, and pointed to the water. "The damn tide washed away their trail!"

Stunned silence washed over the group, just on edge of ear shot of the duo. The realization that they might not find their finds finally sinking in.

Private Smith, however, wasn't so easily deterred and made his way over to the pair. "Well, we may not be able to follow a trail, but we could find them another way."

Trent's reply was less than cordial. "And what way is that, _private_?"

Smith didn't even bat an eye, pulling his pack off and grabbing equipment out of the bag. "It's simple. The LT said they had radios. I use my tech to track the signal strength of the communications, get a fix on our men, and then go kick the enemy's ass."

Taylor stood up from his kneeling position. "You can do that?"

Smith nodded, tapping commands into the tablet in his hands. "Yes sir, just need to hear them communicate and find their frequency. Once I have that, all I need to do is track the frequency strength all the way to the source."

Jarin stepped. "Good thinking private. And Jackson, keep your head. If I catch you throwing a rifle on the rocks or any other boneheaded shit like that again I'll have you carry Smith's radio pack for him, got it?"

Trent picked up his rifle. "Yeah, I got it." He took a breath to calm himself down and walked around behind Smith who was still getting his gear unpacked. "And what if they shut their radios off?"

"Shouldn't matter. If their base has any sort of comms, I highly doubt they would shut off their main radio beacon, especially since the locals don't exactly have the skill set or the tech to do what I'm going to try to do. Not much reason to ghost your communications when everyone around you is pretty much in the stone age."

10 minutes later Smith was leading Carver and Taylor back and forth down the beach, and then into the trees until he stopped, tapping at the screen. He froze, causing Taylor to bump into him. Jarin came around his right and saw the look of confusion on Brian's face. Before he could answer, Smith took off back toward the beach, cursing as he went. Carver and Taylor shared a look, with the former just offering a shrug while the latter took off after Private Smith.

"Hey, private, mind telling me what the heck is going on?"

Smith sighed as he turned to face the lieutenant, tossing the tablet to his CO. "Take a look for yourself. I don't think you're going to like it."

Jarin cradled the tablet as he caught it and looked over the readouts Private Smith had pulled up on the screen. His eyes widened and he looked up to double check with the private.

"Yeah, you read that right. Their signal is coming from over the water."

"Oh. Well, that sucks."

"Hey guys!" Carver's voice carried over the breeze, though Brian and Jarin paid him little mind.

Smith crossed his arms. "Yep, and it gets better. Whoever took Grissom and Lopez are in a boat with a motor. It's the only thing that explains the distance they've seemingly covered since we hit the beach."

"Hey. Assholes!" This time Carver got their attention. Both men made their way back over the sergeant who was standing on the other side of a long pile of branches

After the news he'd just received Jarin was not in a mood for his sergeant to call him over to a dead tree. "Sam, what the hell are you doing?"

Carver cocked a wry smile. "Have some faith, lieutenant. This." He gestured at the pile. "Is a really, really big cover." Sam reached down to pull at one end of the pile, and rolled it away like a blanket, much to the surprise of Jarin and Brian. Underneath was a rudimentary wooden canoe with two small oars tucked beneath the middle seat.

Jarin clapped a hand on Brian's shoulder. "Well, I think we just found the answer to our problem."

Now Carver was the one out of the loop. "And what problem is that?"

Jarin held up the tablet. "Turns out that our new 'friends' have a base somewhere on or over the water. And their boat has a motor."

"Oh. Crap." Sam bent down to pick up one of the oars. "Yeah, I don't think we're going to be able to beat a motor with two oars."

Jarin reached into the boat to pull out the other one. "And that's just the beginning. We won't be able to take everyone with us when we hit the water. This is way too small for 10 people and their gear."

Sam put his oar back in. "Well let's get this back to the group and see if it's even seaworthy before we make too big a fuss about anything."

* * *

Two hours later Lieutenant Taylor had led a squad of four men and their gear out onto the water. Private Smith and Williams were in the middle of the boat while Jackson and Taylor manned the oars at the bow and the stern, both having plenty of experience pitching in with the fishing crews before joining the military. To conserve battery life Jarin had Smith check the radio equipment every 45 minutes to course correct if necessary. Thankfully, the sun was still high in the sky and would stay aloft for a few hours more, making navigating the waters along their south-eastern route fairly simple. Having calm waters didn't hurt either. For the next few hours the crew took shifts at the oars, and those shifts got shorter and shorter as the evening approached. As the sky was turning magenta due to the setting sun, Smith flipped on the radio equipment to double check their course. He eyes darted over the screen before he rummaged through his bags for the binoculars.

Lieutenant Taylor caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, ceasing his rowing. "We getting close?"

Jarin could only see Private Smith smile widely behind the binoculars. "Hell yeah we are!"

He handed the lenses to Jarin who looked off in the same direction as the private. Almost immediately he saw something on the horizon. He pressed his eyes into the binoculars, trying to bring the object into better focus. "Is that what I think it is?"

"I don't know sir, but it sure looks like an oil rig to me. Not much stands on open water like that."

Taylor handed the binoculars back to the private before motioning for Trent to help row once again. The two men pushed hard for the next few hours, despite the lack of light to navigate by. Their only ability to reckon their position came from the radio table Smith used to test the enemy's radio signal strength. Due to the darkness, Taylor had upped the check in timetable to 30 minutes.

"How close you think we are?" Trent asked between strokes.

Jarin paused, sitting down on the bow of the boat for catch his breath. "Hard to say, didn't get a good gauge of the distance before we lost the light. Brian, anything on that system tell us how we're doing?

Trent dropped his oar in the boat. "Yeah, and tell me again, how you know we're going in the right direction?"

While Smith worked to get out his equipment he tried to answer Trent's question. "Well, other than the fact that we saw a damn oil rig in the direction the kidnappers went, it's actually a pretty simple algorithm. Traveling along the beach gave me two points to measure the radio signals and traveling inland gave me the third point to show the direction. And that's all we've been going on. It's like I could get 100% pinpoint from simple triangulation without a map, but having a definite direction is better than nothing, right?"

Trent seemed to have his answer and fell silent. The crew floated in silence while Brian re-initialized the program. Within seconds the screen flashed red, causing Brian to look up in panic. "Uh, sir, either we're here, or-"

Before Private Smith could finish his thought, spotlights found the boat, blinding the four men. While trying to find his rifle on the floor of the boat, a voice boomed out of the water. _"You have been surrounded. If you resist, you die."_

* * *

 **A/N: Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

_"_ _You have been surrounded. If you attack, you die."_

The words hung in the night air as Lieutenant Taylor and his men floated in the water in the battered old canoe. The spotlights, wherever they were coming from, blinded the four man team to anything beyond the confines of the small boat. Jarin looked back toward the rear of the craft, hoping that he hadn't just gotten his men killed by chasing off after Lopez and Grissom. His thoughts were interrupted as a line of rope was thrown in between Private Brian Smith and himself. Before anyone could offer a question as to why the voice boomed out again, seemingly coming from all around the small canoe.

 _"_ _Attach the rope to the front of boat."_

Jarin continued to shield his eyes from the bright light as he did as instructed. Just over the front side of the bow he felt the large steel eye-hook, screwed in the wooden frame of the boat. Soon after the rope was tied through the hole and knotted the lights were aimed upward into the night sky. The crew blinked rapidly, rubbing at their eyes to deal with the bright spots in their vision. Within a few moments some semblance of night vision returned to the men as a small boat pulled up alongside the canoe.

Trent Jackson looked at the rear of the craft, noting that Smith's theory of these people, whoever the hell they were, were using motorized boats was correct, as much as he didn't want to give the private the satisfaction of hearing him say it out loud. The motor was nearly silent and he supposed that they missed the approaching boats, four by his count as he looked around, due to sound of their rowing feverishly through the open water toward their unknown destination. He looked up into the boat as the operator, his hand still on the rudder control in front of the outboard motor, got their attention.

"Your weapons." He pointed back into the empty hull in front of him.

Trent looked toward the bow to the lieutenant who quickly began helping the privates move the gear and weapons into the other. Trent hesitated, his eyes darting around the water to keep tabs on the other boats. Suddenly he felt Jarin jar his right shoulder.

"Give me your weapons, Jackson." Jarin held out his hand. "We're surrounded, probably outgunned as well, so unless you want to die out here in the middle of the damn bay, I would do what they say."

Trent shoulders slumped as he relinquished his pistol and rifle. As soon as Jarin set the rifles in the other craft and returned to his own, the operator pulled away. Private Smith, now at the front of the boat, saw the line Jarin had attached earlier grow taut as the boat was towed through the gently rolling water of the bay. The four men looked around as the boats' motors opened up, humming loudly in the cool night air. The group rode the waves in silence for nearly 20 minutes until the hum of the motors died down. In front of the tow boat, lights burst out atop the water, illuminating the outline of the massive structure in the water.

Jarin looked back to Brian. "Well, looks like you were right about the oil rig."

"Being taken prisoner kind of takes the fun out of being right."

The groups' attention was drawn to a row of red lights that flickered to life, seemingly right on top of the water. Within a few moments they found themselves seamlessly pulled alongside a makeshift dock and two men stood on the platform, tying off the boat and motioning for the four teammates to follow them. Clambering out of the small craft, the team followed their captors, who conspicuously hadn't bound their captives' hands. Jarin soon noticed why, as the four were led into a cargo container.

One of their captors turned his head back towards his shoulder to speak to them. "Stay."

The team stood, confused, in the center of the container as the doors on both sides began to close. Jarin ran to the door, only to have it close just as he reached it. In the darkness he heard Trent.

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

Jarin leaned against the side of the container. "Well, let's just hope no one gets his hand cut off or finds out who his real father is."

Despite the darkness, Jarin could almost see the utter confusion of Private Williams' face. "Come again, sir?"

"Jason, do you mean to tell me your dad never had your watch Empire Strikes Back?"

"Um...what? You have me at a loss, lieutenant."

"So the phrase "May the Force be with you.' means nothing to you?

"Williams, when we get home we're going to have work on your pop culture intake. Like, a lot."

At that moment, the container rocked slightly and a mechanical whir from above drew their attention as the group felt the tell-tale tug of an elevator when the container began traveling upward. The container soon came to a stop and Jarin quickly moved away from the door he had ran toward as it was slowly pulled away. Thanks to the moonlight from the quickly clearing night sky, the team was able to pick out several men standing guard around a shorter figure at the head of the container. Jarin cautiously approached the group, keeping his hands in plain view.

The front two guards split, allowing the lieutenant to pass. He could clearly see now that the figure was a woman. He stood a few inches taller than her, though her curly hair nearly made up the height difference by itself. The glare made it fairly obvious this was not a person Jarin wanted to cross.

Instead, he opted for a more light-hearted approach. "So, who goes first?" The woman's eyes narrowed. "I mean, you have my men and I pretty boxed in, and by the way your men are holding those rifles, you know what you're doing." He looked around, noting all the rifles were still indeed trained on him. "And despite the fact that you kidnapped my men, I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Why?" The woman's tone was harsh, as though trying to provoke a reaction.

"Because if you wanted us dead we would have been long before found this rig."

The woman nodded, and her men lowered their weapons. "On that, we agree. Tell me, who are you?"

"My name is Jarin Taylor, these are my men." He motioned for his team to stand behind him. "Trent Jackson, Jason Williams, and Brian Smith. The only thing we want is to find our friends, the men you captured, and get back to our mission."

The woman turned to speak privately with a man before turning back. "We cannot give them to you, not until we are sure."

"Sure of what?"

"That you are not agents of our enemy."

Jarin was even further confused by the turn in the conversation. "Enemy? What enemy?"

The woman nodded and her men moved to bind the wrists of the four men. Once they were bound she walked up to Jarin and pulled a knife almost faster than he could see. He stifled a scream as he felt the knife rip through his forearm. The woman's eyes never left his face, narrowing at his response to the pain.

"It seems we have our answer." She cut Jarin's bindings, leaving the lieutenant in a whirlwind of confusion, something the woman picked up on. "I do apologize for the drama, but we have to be certain you are not infected."

Jarin clamped his left hand on the opposite forearm in an attempt to stem the blood slowly oozing out of the shallow cut. "Infected?"

The woman nodded. "Yes, but that is all I can say for now. If your men wish to accompany you to see your friends, they will need to be tested the same way."

Jarin looked back at his team. Trent spoke for himself and the privates. "Seems a pretty small price to pay to after everything else sir."

Taylor turned back to the woman. "Do it, and then you had better keep your word."

The woman gestured to the guards for them to follow her lead in cutting along the arm of each of Jarin's men. Once she was satisfied the restraints were removed from the other three as well. "Welcome to our sanctuary. My name is Luna, and your friends, no doubt, will be very pleased to see you."

 **BREAK-BREAK-BREAK**

 **A/N: So this is the first really big point of divergence from the main continuity. In this instance, seeing as I started this well before we actually met Luna for the first time on the show, she is fully aware, or like 90% aware of all the goings on in the world, thanks to some surprises in the next chapter. So with that in mind, please drop a review!**


	7. Chapter 7

"Welcome to our sanctuary. My name is Luna, and your friends, no doubt, will be very pleased to see you."

Jarin tried to mask his surprise at this woman's forthcoming. "They're OK?"

Luna nodded. "Of course. Once we determined that your two soldiers were not under the enemy's sway we allowed them to walk freely, without weapons, of course. And now you may do the same."

Luna gestured for the team to follow out of the cargo container and out onto the deck of the rig. Passing under an arch of ropes, the men noticed they were hanging freshly killed game from the makeshift overhang.

Smith pointed at one of the bigger pieces. "You hunt on the mainland? That looks like some kind of mountain lion."

Luna nodded. "When there aren't enough fish to feed our people, we send teams out in the woods to bring back what they can find."

The answer only spurred Smith's curiosity. "So why not just trade with the people at Polis?"

Luna seemed to bristle at the question. "We stand apart from them, from their way of life. We want nothing to do with them."

Jarin glanced back at Brian, who seemed to get the hint to back off. Jarin, however, wanted to get into something Luna had mentioned. "You said that you thought we might be under someone's sway, what did you mean by that?"

"There will be a time for answers, Jarin Taylor, but it is not now."

The group cleared the overhang, and came out on the open platform of the rig, just time for a steel door, on what Private Smith surmised used to the main office, opened up to reveal both Rod Lopez and David Grissom, alive and none the worse for wear. The duo broke into a jog close the gap and greet their teammates.

The two groups quickly exchanged handshakes, while Trent and David shared a rather awkward hug. Trent broke it off first. "Yeah, that was…that was weird." He eyed David up and down. "You good?"

David scoffed. "Yeah, we're alright. I mean, outside of them testing our pain tolerance for about 30 seconds." He held up his forearm and rolled back the sleeve of his uniform, showing off several small burn marks.

Trent held up his own arm. "Hey, at least you're not bleeding all over the deck."

Meanwhile, Jarin and Rod had separated from the group, standing along the railing overlooking the ocean. Far below, the lights from the dock played off the water, and both men stared down in silence for a few moments while their team swapped stories off their last few days. It was up to Rod to first break the ice.

"What you thinking about man?"

Jarin braced against the railing. "Honestly, I don't really know what to think right now Rod."

Rod rubbed at the burns on his arm. "Yeah, I know what you mean. This wasn't exactly in the mission briefing, you know?"

Jarin saw Rod's motion on his arm. "Need that looked at?"

Rod shook his head. "Nah man, I'm good. They stopped as soon as we started showing that it hurt, put some salve on the burns. They helped for a while, but it's wearing off."

Jarin stared out over the water. "What the hell is all that about, what enemy has them so freaked out their cutting and burning, and kidnapping, random strangers?"

"Those are good questions." Luna's voice surprised both of them as she suddenly came up behind the two. "But they will wait until the morning. For now, I believe Roderic-"

Lopez cut in. "Just call me Rod, ma'am."

"Rod can show you and your men to your rooms."

"And what about the people we left back at the beach?" Jarin sounded rather insistent with the question.

"We will send two crews in the morning to find them. You were lucky; the waters of this area are home to several very large and dangerous predators. We rarely risk travel at night, and will not risk it tonight. Now go to sleep, and you're warriors will hopefully be here when you wake. We'll speak in the morning."

As Luna left Jarin saw the lights to the dock shut off in sequence, leaving the dark to once again cover the water. After one last glance at the night sky the lieutenant motioned for his team to follow Lopez and to finally get some shut eye after what were literally days without anything more than a token rest.

* * *

Despite several attempts by Rod to rouse his CO, it was the whine of the creaking steel door that finally broke through Jarin's slumber. He sat up to see Trent pushing the door to the room open even wider.

"Dude, they made us breakfast!"

Jarin rested back on his elbows, looking at up Rod. "What?"

Rod shrugged. "Yeah, they have this thing about group meals apparently. I mean the food's not bad, but you know me, not the best with crowds."

Jarin raised an arm, which Lopez used to pull him to his feet. "Well don't worry sergeant; I'll make sure the big bad fishermen don't cramp your space."

"You're a dick."

"Yeah, still your CO though, so how about we go grab some food?"

Lopez nodded and the two got up to join the rest of their team. On the way down the hallway Rod looked sideways at Jarin. "Damn, I forgot how fast your beard grows when you don't shave all the time."

Jarin ran a hand over the thickening stubble on his face. "I think this time I'm going to keep it. No Commander Williams being all 'Your face is part of your uniform, solider.'"

"Damn right."

The two rounded the corner into what Jarin assumed was the main hall of sorts. The buzz of the crowd died down sharply once the two walked in, with most of the people in the hall turned their heads to get a glimpse of the new arrivals from the night before. Jarin quickly spotted the four other members of his team, who waved both he and Lopez over to their corner of the room. Taylor quickly made his way over to them, being careful not to disturb any of the haphazard groups scattered around the room as they ate. Their curiosity sated, the people turned back to their conversations, leaving the team of six in peace for the time being.

David slid a plate of food to each of them as they sat down with the four others making room around their small circle. Rod picked up the plate, examining the contents, unsure whether or not it would be worth it to track down one of the team's food packs from their supplies Luna had confiscated. They might not be any good, but they were always the same, a known quantity.

Brian noticed Rod's hesitation. "It's not too bad actually. The meat, I think, is from that big panther looking thing. Saw them cutting it up this morning when I was walking outside. The sauce has got some kind of spice in it, got decent kick to it. Goes real good with the bread they have."

Rod looked over at Brian on his right. "Bread?"

"Yeah, there was a bit of bread with the stuff." Brian saw the lack of the stuff on both Jarin and Rod's plate. "Oh…"

Looking around, Rod easily picked out Trent across the way actively avoiding his stare. "You're a real piece of shit Trent, you know that?"

Suddenly a shadow crossed over the group, the tell-tale sign someone was standing behind them, blocking the light. Jarin looked behind, and saw Luna standing there, looking down at the group. In her hands she held a small basket, holding a few small pieces of bread which she offered to the group.

Jarin took one for himself and motioned for her to sit. "If you have the time, I happen to have a few questions to ask you."

Luna nodded, stepping out of the light and sat down between Jarin and Rod. "And I have several for you and your warriors as well."

Jarin finished wolfing down the bread he had soaked in the meat and sauce. "We're not warriors, at least not in the way I think you look at things."

"How so?"

"Warriors are the ones who live to fight."

Luna looked at him quizzically. "And none of you do not?"

"No. Well, not exactly. We're soldiers. We all volunteered to defend our home against its enemies, but that doesn't always mean going out to fight whenever someone pisses off."

Luna's eyes narrowed. "So we're simply savages?"

Jarin shook his head. "Oh not at all." He looked around the room, noticing everyone had stopped what they were doing to look their way. "I think you, and your people, are quite a bit more than that. You're a lot more like our own people, removed from the larger world, but still keeping your ear to the ground. And the way you handled our own weapons showed you know what you're doing."

Luna motioned for one her guards to make their way to her while she commented on Jarin's remark. "You're observant." She looked up at the guard, who had crossed the room. "Prepare the others, release them at my signal." She turned back to Jarin. "So we've established both our people are not the bloodthirsty monsters we fear, then perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me what it is you and your _soldiers_ were doing in The Commander's territory."

Jarin scooped down the last of the food. "We're looking for someone."

"Who?"

Now it was Jarin's turn to size up his verbal sparring partner. "Well, if you want to know, you have to answer a question of my own." Luna nodded and the lieutenant proceeded. "Why take two of my men prisoner?"

Luna's face was as passive as ever as she answered. "Your symbol." She pointed at the NASA logo on the sleeve of their uniforms.

Rod ran his right hand over the patch. "What's our patch have to do with anything?"

Luna spoke to Jarin to answer. "My people have seen it before, a generation ago when men and women with the same mark came into my parents village. So when my scouts spotted you at the southern border of the forest we began tracking you."

Now David chimed in, resentment still clear in his voice. "But why take us, and drug us?"

"The more pressing reason is that the symbol on your arm is present in many of the facilities below. We had hoped your people would be able to help us in our fight." Luna turned to face David. "I am sorry for the extreme measures, but even our own brothers and sisters on the mainland do not know where this place. In fact, my brother Lincoln is the only person who has ever been allowed to walk freely in both places."

Jarin didn't like that sound of that. "So I take it we wouldn't be allowed to leave?"

Luna stood up. "That has yet to be decided."

As she turned to leave Jarin quickly popped up to stop her. "Wait. You answered my question, so I'll answer yours. The people we're looking for, I'm told you would know them as Sky Crew?" Luna turned back around, the stone façade across her face cracked slightly, showing surprise either at the forthrightness of the answer or the answer itself, Jarin couldn't be sure which. When she didn't turn to leave again he decided to press his luck. "I was hoping that you could help us find them. Given our little quid pro quo session this morning, I'm thinking if we help you first then you'd give us your word to let us leave and find the Sky Crew. So, what do you say to that?"

"I would say you shouldn't offer such a thing without knowing the enemy you would face."

The rest of Jarin's team stood up behind him. Lopez crossed his arms beside the lieutenant. "Hasn't been any enemy we haven't beaten before, so why don't you fill us in?"

Luna turned her head. "Clear the room." Within seconds the people quickly grabbed their food and filed out of the room without an argument.

Trent leaned up to whisper in Jarin's ear. "Um, this seems to have taken a dark turn man, you sure you want to commit us to helping Miss Frizzle?"

Rod answered for Jarin. "The LT's got it right. We aren't getting off this rig, and won't be able to complete our mission if we don't get on her good side. End of discussion."

"Yes, sergeant." Trent weakly replied as he took a step back.

Once given the all clear by the guards Luna turned back to the group. "When my people first found this place, they thought it would provide them a safe place to hide from the bloodshed of the Commander's wars. And for a time they were right. And when given their safe harbor, they didn't even ask how this place had come to be. But when I arrived, I always wondered how it was possible such a place had survived, who built it, and why? That's when I found what at the time I thought was a miracle." She walked over to the wall, pressing her left palm to the rusting steel. Suddenly, the panel pulled back with a hiss and slid sideways, revealing an elevator and leaving Jarin and his men completely stunned.

Luna laughed when she saw their faces. "I suppose I looked the same when I found this. The ride down takes quite a long time so I will just tell you the important facts." She placed her hand back along the wall and the steel door slid back seamlessly into place, perfectly hidden in plain sight. "The people who built this place were trying to survive something, and based on the bodies I found down below, some of them managed to live here for a time. But given the growths on their bones, radiation from the bombs, likely absorbed before they could enter the facility, killed them slowly."

Private Williams pushed his way past Rod at the front of the group. "So are you saying you actually know what happened to the world?"

"I do. And I know what did it as well."

Jarin covered his mouth, trying to process the hard left turn things had taken. Finally, the impact of Luna's last statement hit him. "You know about the AI."

"And that is the answer to your earlier question, that thing is who we will soon have to face."

The guard Luna had ordered away earlier entered the room, drawing the group's attention. Luna smiled, the show of emotion disconcerting to the team. "We can discuss more about the situation later. Right now, there are a few people who I believe wish to see you."

At her words the doors to the main hall opened, pushed wide by the remaining six members of Taylor's team. The newcomers froze, shocked to see they're friends, except for Jenn Blake. She marched right across the room to where Jarin was standing and grabbed him a hug, finally able to let go of the fear she'd never see him again flow out of her. After a few seconds she broke away, looking over the others.

"When we didn't hear from you, we thought you'd been killed."

Rod smiled, reaching out to hug the smaller woman. "I thought we might be too for a minute there. But despite the fact that we were kidnapped, I think we're in good hands."

Luna coughed slightly, cutting the reunion short. "I'll have your equipment returned to you by nightfall. For now, please rest. There is much to be done in the days ahead."

Blake stared at the woman as she left, taking her guards with her. Jenn looked up at Jarin, clearly confused as to what had all happened in the last 24 hours.

Jarin looked over the rest of the team who had wandered over slowly. "There's a lot to catch you up. For now, it's enough to know you're all alive. We'll figure out what comes next in the morning."

* * *

 **A/N: So in this little AU of mine, Luna knows quite a bit about ALIE and we'll get more into things in the next chapter. Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Nov. 14, 2149  
Outpost Alpha**

Commander Williams sprinted through the concrete halls of the outpost on his way to the command center, not caring what people thought of the sight of the bases' commanding officer nearly knocking over several citizens on his way to his through the corridors. He only slowed once he reached the door, moving briskly through the technicians and officers milling around the room as he found his way to the communications station.

A few feet behind the console the commander barked an order as he approached. "Specialist Travers, I want a report."

Olivia Travers bolted upright at the commander's voice. She adjusted her headset before pulling up what she assumed the commander was going to ask her about. "The transmission was a little garbled sir, but I believe our DC recon team sent out a transmission. The relay station at Sumter barely picked it up two nights ago, must have been right on the edge of their radio range. But their equipment couldn't clean it up well enough so they sent it to us."

The commander stood silently behind the specialist, eyeing over the screens, waiting for the specialist. Realizing she wasn't going to proceed on her own he gave her a nudge. "Play the transmission."

Travers went to work on the system, dialing and tuning a series of switches who's purposes perplexed the commander, though he didn't tell the specialist that. Finally she brought up the volume and for a few seconds the only thing they could hear was static. Before Commander Williams could ask if there was a problem with the file he suddenly heard Lieutenant Taylor's over the transmission, scarcely louder than the background static.

" _This is Lieutenant Jarin Taylor, contacting the Outpost. Commander, if you're listening we found something up here. Something you're going to believe. We had to head south along the coast a ways to get back in range and it's too risky to stay put for the night so we need a series of radio relays set up along the coast north of Sumter for live communications. It's that big of a discovery, sir. Will return to this spot in seven days for return transmission on same frequency. Taylor out."_

Travers flipped a switch in front her, killing the transmission which was once again taken over by static. "That's all we got sir. Apparently it repeated three times that night, but each was the same message. Haven't heard anything since." Travers turned around when the commander didn't respond to either her, or the transmission itself. "Sir?"

The commander looked down at her. "Pass the word up to Colonel Avery at Bravo. We need to take down a few of their interior radio relays and get them along the coast at intervals three miles under their max range. That should cut down on any power issues from the storms along the coast this time of year."

Travers turned around in her chair. "What about the president, think he'll sign off?"

Williams looked down at his comm specialist. "He's the president- _elect_ for a couple more months. Even if he was the full blown president I'd still tell him to screw off. We have a job to do. Taylor's been on enough missions to know if something big enough to break from his primary objective. If he says it's worth it, then I'll believe him until I have reason not to. Any more questions, specialist?"

Travers was a bit taken aback by the commander's directness. "Um, no, sir."

"Good, then patch me through, I want to give this order personally."

* * *

 **Nov. 19, 2149**

 **The Rig**

Jenn Blake was hard at work re-wiring the network cables along the north wall, deep in the bowels of the base. After the short express elevator ride down, she had at first been stunned to see how well preserved the old world technology was. With a little elbow grease, and some help from the base's educational Virtual Intelligence, she'd managed to restore power and function to quite a bit of the computer systems on the main level. But for some reason the north bank of computer, even after powered on, refused to connect to the main network. So she slid on her back, ripping out the cable casings as she worked backwards from the main network hub to try and locate where the connection was breaking down. Between the tearing insulation and her own grunts of effort she completely missed Jarin stepping off the whisper quiet elevator, at least he until he yelled to get her attention.

"Hey, you want to quit monkeying around down there?" Jenn bolted upright at his voice, loudly knocking her head into the bottom of one of the monitor desks she'd been working under. While she rubbed the back of her head, she worked her way out from under the desk to find Jarin kneeling down next to her. "You know, giving yourself a concussion won't rescue you from grunt work, Jenn." He offered her a hand to help her up and the pair cleaned off a few old chairs to sit down. "But who am I kidding, you love this stuff. Probably couldn't drag you away from here if I tried."

Jenn propped her feet up on another chair between the two, leaning away to stretch her back. "Damn right you couldn't." Pulling herself forward into a seated position she caught the canteen Jarin had tossed to her. "Thanks."

As she screwed off the top Jarin started getting down to the matter at hand. "So you've been down here going on three days straight since you talked Luna into letting you coming down. Hopefully none of us have gotten in your way, but given that I need to head out to give the sitrep to Commander Williams tonight what have you found?"

She answered after a swig of water. "Well for starters, Luna and her people have only scratched the surface of this place. The place had all the oxygen sucked out and was hermetically sealed for over 93 years until Luna showed up, so things are still near mint condition down here. That VI apparently played a message to her when she first came down and answered a lot of her questions about the world. My guess is it's a historical VI, because it doesn't know anything about electrical systems, otherwise they wouldn't have had any problems getting this base up and running again.

Jenn handed Jarin back the canteen. "Explain that one to me, the commander will want to know what's giving this power the juice to run all these computers."

"Well that one's fairly simple actually. According to the base schematics on the main hub it's getting power a proprietary geothermal generator. There's a second system connected to a hydro-electric system underneath one of the major ocean currents a dozen or so miles out that was meant to supply power to several other bunkers like this, but it doesn't seem to ever have gone online. Oh, and the coolest part? The geothermal system is maintained by robots. Robots!"

Jarin laughed at the sheer joy on Jenn's face. "I take it that's the next stop?"

"Yeah, but first I gotta get a handle on all the main systems and this stupid bank of computers," she pointed to the north bank she'd been working on when Jarin came down. "controls the bases internal defenses near as I can figure. Don't want to run into any nasty surprises on the way down."

"So what about this bunker? What was it meant for? Government continuity?"

"Bingo. The VI tells me that this was actually the primary fallback point for the President and the Cabinet, in the opposite direction of the one they told the public about at Mount Weather. Apparently they built a bullet train system into the bay floor that connected to the base so the president could escape DC in time."

"Really? So did she make it here before the bombs dropped?"

"Yes. I'm still digging through the files, but the VI confirmed the President did arrive, and they blew the train system to prevent any radiation seepage. But the base had only been completed for several weeks when the bombs fell and wasn't fully stocked. There was only enough food to last a few years."

"So they starved to death."

"Hard to say, but the activation log on the VI had the last date before Luna as three after the bombs dropped. Hopefully, I'll know more once I have time to sift through the computers more thoroughly. Whatever happened to them, it couldn't have been pretty, that's for sure."

Jarin sat back, running a hand through his beard while he digested the information. "Damn."

Jenn nodded. "Yeah, but that's not even the heavy stuff. The VI filled me on what it knows about the AI that went rogue. We already knew its creator had managed to make it to orbit and was working on version 2. Hell, our secondary command room was mission control for her satellite. And we knew that her station launched a pod down to the ground and the VI had noted an orbital strike in that same window. Track that with what Luna said about the first Commander and I'm thinking freaking Becca herself made it back to the ground!"

"Not to damper the enthusiasm, because believe me, this is all interesting as hell, but was there anything actionable I need to pass on to the Commander when we get the comms up?"

Jenn mock glared at Jarin "I was just about to get there, spoil-sport. You want actionable intel? How about that Luna was totally right about the first AI still being active or that the station VI has tracked several people with some kind of weird chip things in their brains who've all tried to break into Luna's stronghold?

This shocked Jarin. "How in the hell did it know that? What kind of chip?"

Jenn threw up her hands. "Hell if I know, but apparently that shipping container we rode up in doubles as a fully body scanner. But if I was an evil AI trying to take over the world I don't think I would ever stop trying to take this place, and that fact that no one's tried in weeks makes me think the AI doesn't know anything about the real base down below. Score one for the government actually managing to keep something secret."

"Now that's some stuff I can use." Jarin stood up, motioning for Jenn to follow him. "Boat's leaving in 20, let's get topside."

Jenn lazily got out the chair, the lack of sleep from the past few days finally catching up to her in a hurry. She wrapped an arm around Jarin as they walked to the elevator. "So what are you going to tell the commander?"

"Pretty much everything you just told me. I'm gonna ask him to change our primary objective. We can do a lot more up here than just find some people who may or may not have managed to survive their space station crashing to the ground."

As the two entered the elevator Jenn looked up at Jarin. "Just promise me when you get back you wake me up for a little moonlight stroll on the deck."

Jarin smiled mischievously, moving in for a kiss. "Oh I can promise a lot more than that."

Just over a minute later Trent was in the main hall, waiting for the elevator to arrive so he could go talk to the lieutenant. When the doors slid open, however he was in for a quite a surprise. "Oh." He turned around, trying to avoid more of something he probably shouldn't have in the first place. "I'll just, yeah; I'll just come back later."

* * *

A few hours later President-Elect James Grayson walked into the commander center just as Commander Williams was hanging up the comm.

"Tell me that what I heard on the way here was wrong." The sitting president and the commander both turned to face him. The looks on their faces told him everything he needed to know. "So it's as bad as it sounds?"

Williams nodded. "There's an AI out there, the same one that blew up the whole damn world, and both the station survivors and our people are right in its crosshairs. So yeah, it's as bad as it sounds."

Grayson was stunned, not wanting to believe that after a week and a half after his election the whole world may very well be on the edge of collapse yet again. "So, now what?"

* * *

 **A/N: Bit more exposition than I would normally be cool with, but had to get some things laid out for the coming chapters. For the most part, the first half, give or take, of season 3 will hold for the main cast, but you'll quickly pick up on the changes in the next chapter. Please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**February 22, 2150**

Jarin examined his face in the mirror, something he hadn't done in nearly a week. He quickly realized why Jenn wasn't too keen on getting intimate lately. For the first two months, he'd kept his beard mostly in check, but the last few weeks, going out to hunt with Luna's teams, he'd let it run wild, far too much for the lady's liking it seemed. He held up the scissors from the medical kit and started lopping off the thickest part of the beard, using a comb to gauge the hair length as he got it trimmed down. He kept the neck the shortest, but decided against shaving it all off. After all, without any razors or his trimmer, this was the best he could manage. For a half a second he wished he was like the rest of the men on the team, either too young or just unable to grow more than a paltry amount of stubble. He ran his hands along his cheeks, making sure hairs weren't too particularly out of place before sweeping up the mess he'd made on the floor.

Once he was done and back in uniform he made his way out on the rig's top deck. Slamming the door closed he braced against the cold wind blowing off the open water. He was very glad he'd had his team pack some cold weather gear all those months ago. He jogged across the open platform where Carver had the soldiers from the outpost paired off with one of Luna's warriors. Jarin slowed to walk just in time for Carver to start this morning training session. Taylor nodded to his own men when they saw him approach and he noted how the local's eyes were glued to Sam as he walked back and forth across the deck.

"Now it's no secret that most of you don't want to go out on the mainland and do any fighting. And that's fine, each and every one of us has seen more than enough bloodshed. But that doesn't mean your leader wants to leave this place undefended. Now you've managed to run a half decent patrol and night watch during our stay here, and you know how to hold and shoot a rifle. But Luna has given me permission to show you how to paint with one." Sam signaled Trent, who relayed an arm signal to a boat waiting in the water below. Sam continued with the men's attention turned back to him. "On the water, we'll be releasing a series of targets, some closer, some farther away. You'll each practice with taking down those targets with different weapons, from pistol" He gestured to his sidearm. "to taking down targets scaling the rig, to a sniper picking off targets 300 meters out on the water. You've already been paired off with our people, each an expert, or close to it, with their particular weapon of choice."

Jarin rubbed his freshly cut beard as watched the teams begin taking up positions around the shooting stations. Just on the periphery of his vision he saw a flick of curly brown hair. "Come to watch the show, Luna?"

Luna removed the scarf from in front of her face. "More to make sure my warriors follow orders."

"They'll be fine. I think training on hand-to-hand with Sam a couple months back kind of broke down the last barrier. Last week's little joint hunt was the smoothest in the three months we've been here."

Luna nodded. "That's what Derrick tells me." Luna looked over at Jarin. "I like the trimmed beard. It suits you."

Jarin subconsciously rubbed his face. "Thanks, mostly I just cut it to get Jenn off my back."

"Listening to your woman is certainly a wise choice."

"Oh, I don't think ever claim she's 'my' woman. Besides, she probably kick my ass if I tried."

Luna laughed. "She does seem the type. And I mean that in a good way. You and her work well together."

Jarin turned and motioned for Luna to walk with him. "I could say the same about you and Derrick. So when you two getting hitched?"

Luna eyed him, confused. "Hitched?" The she saw what he meant. "Oh, marriage. Trent explained that concept to me when I first asked him about you and Jenn. My culture doesn't have anything like that. One of the many difference between your people and mine."

The two turned right at the northeast corner of the deck, putting their backs to the northerly winds. Jarin let the lull in the conversation go for a few paces before continuing. "Speaking of our cultures. I just want to thank you again for agreeing to the deal, and hold up your side of things so far. I know it's not easy letting outsiders into your home. Hopefully in a few months our people will be ready to start the new settlement on the coast. And given our population issue, that's gonna be a big relief."

"I will admit, your leaders desire to form a settlement on the mainland gave me pause at first. But if Lexa is true to her word, I believe our people may finally be turning away from the mindless conflict that has defined us for generations. If the last months have been any indication, there may yet be hope for our two peoples, assuming your leaders keep their promise to not force us to join your people.

"You don't have to worry about that. We aren't conquerors. Sure, we might ask you to join us, but that's entirely your choice. And if our leaders tried to force you, there are a lot of us in the military that wouldn't carry out that order."

Luna nodded. "Good, there's far too much violence in the world. It is nice to hear of people outside of my own group who do not wish to see it spread."

"Exactly. I'm more of the mind that humanity needs to move past their violent past, and we're at a point in time where we could get rid of a lot of the old world's problems for good."

"Meaning?"

Jarin paused as they had reached the entrance to the rig's interior two-thirds of the way down the side of the deck. He opened the door for Luna and the two stepped inside to get out of the cold morning air. "What I mean is that the world before what you and I know today wasn't exactly a good one. Don't get me wrong, it had some incredibly cool technology and a lot of people actively trying to make things better, but it was too little, too late. The old world's problems started thousands of years ago. Ever since humanity started sprawling out in the world they always divided themselves. And it always ended in conflict, each and every time. And as the bombs got bigger, so did the wars."

"But you would do something different?"

"Part of my people's mission is quite literally to do things better than the people who sealed us in that bunker nearly a century ago. My grandparents remembered a time before the bombs, and their experiences helped shape how to do things differently, but it was their children, those born in the new world that started us on the path we're on now."

"And where does that path lead?"

"Unity." Jarin let Luna enter the main hall in front of him. "A unified humanity working to be better than the people who came before us."

Suddenly a weight struck Jarin's back, latching on to him from behind. The blonde hair falling over his shoulder told him all he needed to know.

"Is he getting all philosophical on you Luna? Should have brought a pillow with my good news you could take a nap while he drones."

Jarin turned his head to the side. "Jenn, would you please get off my back?"

Luna couldn't help but laugh at the two grown adults acting like children. "Oh we're just having a discussion about where this alliance might lead someday. But what is this 'good news' you mentioned?"

Jenn hopped off Jarin's back. "Oh, that. Remember that radar thing I explained a few weeks ago? Well, I got it working if you want to come take a look."

"Well god damn." Jarin looked only slightly surprised; he learned a long time ago that if Jenn said she could fix something, she would.

A quick elevator ride in the command center below and the trio were at the main console near the center of the room. Jarin looked around at the room, still a little stunned his girlfriend had managed to get the defunct bunker operational almost by herself. He turned back to the radar display and was almost as shocked as Jenn to find that it was picking up an incoming craft.

"Uh, I swear to God that wasn't there when I left like five minutes ago."

Jarin quickly took over. "Luna, you didn't have any boats in the water today, right?"

Luna cocked her head, thinking through the different groups on the mainland. "There's only one teams still ashore, but they're not due back for several days."

Jarin turned back to Jenn. "Then we assume they're not friendly. Range?"

Jenn studied the display before responding. "About a kilometer to the west and closing."

"Keep an eye on it and keep your radio on. Me and Luna are going topside."

"Luna and I."

Jarin froze, turning to glare at Jenn, as if to ask, " _Are you serious woman?"_ Luna pulled him along toward the elevator and the duo bolted through the interior and ran across the deck, flagging down Sam on the way.

"What's up LT?"

"Hope your target practice went well, because we might have something real to shoot at soon."

"Sir?"

"Radar's up and not a minute after it's live we got an inbound bogey. Pushing 800 meters from the west, maybe closer by now. Get your men ready and meet us on the west side." Before he and Luna turned to leave he held out his hand. "I'll also need to borrow your binoculars."

Binoculars in hand, Jarin and Luna tore across the top deck of the rig, only stopping once they'd reached the western rail. Jarin scanned the water for the inbound craft, barely noticing Sam and the men take up positions on the rail. He stopped, spotting the blurry outline of one of the boats.

He handed the lenses to Luna, pointing the direction she should look. "That one of yours?"

The gunmen all tensed along the rail, waiting for confirmation from Luna one way of the other. In a few moments they had an answer.

"It's Derrick's crew. They're three days ahead of schedule. Something must have gone wrong." She motioned for her people to head to the docks before turning to Jarin. "Find your healer and send them to me."

Jarin nodded as Luna and her people crossed the rig and headed toward the shipping container turned elevator.

* * *

Several hours later Jarin, Sam, Luna, and Derrick all made their way across the deck, the moonlight the only thing illuminating the path in front of them. Luna went over the details once more with Derrick.

"And you're certain they said 'safe passage'?

Derrick nodded. "I don't know how outsiders would have known to say those words, but they did, without question."

"And the signal fire?"

"Green, the same as we tell our allies on land."

The group stopped in front of the container, and Luna's men slowly opened it at Luna's gesture. Four haggard looking individuals stepped out of the elevator turned holding cell, shocked to see rifles pointed their direction. The lead one, or the one Jarin assumed was the lead one, seemed to hone in on Luna, slowly stepping forward while reaching for her pocket. Sam quickly drew a pistol and trained it on her, stopping her in her tracks.

"We came here for help, and to give Luna something." The blonde reached into her pocket and pulled out some kind of container. When she slid off the top and held up its contents everyone recognized the symbol on it. "This is the Flame, and Luna has to take it. She's the only one who can."

Jarin and Sam both caught on of the container's guards eyeing the thing, whatever it was, a little intently. When he pulled a knife lunged at Luna the two men put four rounds in him before he moved two steps. Luna was shocked, but couldn't look on as Jarin and Sam trained their weapons on Derrick and his crew.

The shaggy haired taller man in the back was as shocked as Luna, but not a quiet. "What the hell is going on?"

Jarin pointed to the container. "Everyone who wasn't on board on this rig yesterday is going back in that container. No one is going to step foot on this rig until we're certain you're clean."

When no one moved, Sam fired a round into the air, startling the group. "Move!" He trained his pistol as they all slowly filed in. "And if anyone so much as moves the wrong way, you'll end up like him." He gestured down to the ground where the guard's body lay, bleeding out on the deck. Sam held out his hand to the blonde. "But I'll take that thing, whatever it is, until we're sure you're not infected."

Jarin and Luna shared a look, as he helped Sam and Derrick slammed the door of the container, both realizing how badly the last few minutes could have gone, and how far sideways they could still go.


	10. Chapter 10

February 23, 2150

Bellamy shifted in his seat, his hands strapped to the aluminum table in front of him. He'd been sitting in the chair for what felt like hours, but without a clock, or a watch, there was no way of knowing how long he'd been stuck in this position. And that Sergeant Carver's constant in-your face barrage of questions certainly didn't make things better. He silently was just glad not to have been shot on sight, the image of the guard bleeding out on the deck of the rig still fresh in his mind. To his right he heard muffled voices, two, maybe three, if he had to guess, just beyond the heavy plate door. The thick metal deadened most of the words so he tried to get comfortable, assuming one or both of whoever was at the door would be in momentarily.

* * *

Rod, Jarin, and Luna stopped just outside the makeshift holding cell. Jarin quickly flipped through Sam's notes while Luna and Rod discussed the events of the previous night.

"So your guard just rushed you?"

Luna shook her head at Rod's question. "Not at me, at the Flame."

Rod was still a little confused. "The Flame?"

"My people view The Flame as a symbol of leadership. We believe it holds the spirits of all the past Commanders, imparting their wisdom and knowledge on the current Commander. How this blonde woman-"

"Clarke" Jarin quickly interjected. "That's what Sam said her name is."

Luna continued. "How this 'Clarke' came to possess The Flame is an intriguing question. I fear something terrible has happened on the mainland. Especially if they were desperate enough to try to find me, of all people."

Jaring flipped the notebook closed and nodded to Rod. "I'm ready." He turned to Luna. "He's the last one to interrogate. After this we should have a better idea about what's going on out there."

Rod opened the door, pushing it in to let Jarin pass, the latter noticing their quasi-prisoner attempt to sit up straight as he crossed the gap toward the table in the middle of the room. He let the notebook drop the table, the impact drawing the attention of the interrogation subject. Jarin slowly slid out his own chair, pulling out his knife as he sat down. Carefully, he place the knife on the table, and slid his chair along the ground toward the table. He looked up to see the subject's eyes were still on the knife when he started talking.

"Firstly, I'd like to apologize for the sergeant's questioning earlier. Carver can be a bit overzealous at times, just a tad too aggressive, but it's those qualities that make me quite glad he's my sergeant. Thankfully, based on the information gathered from your friends I'm confident his more physical tactics won't be necessary today, provided you tell me what I want to know."

Bellamy was trying to reconcile the knife and the more conciliatory tone of his latest questioner. "And what do you want, exactly?"

"Oh I'll be get to that in a minute." Jarin leaned back, propping his feet up on the table. "For now, I want to talk about you. I know you're name is Bellamy Blake. I know you and your friends until about 5 months actually lived in space, which I gotta say is pretty cool. And I know you've been heavily involved in actions both with, and against, the people your friends refer to as 'grounders'. By all accounts, you and your people have been through hell these last few months. Which makes this particular standoff puzzling to me."

Bellamy was not a fan of this man assuming that he knew everything about him. "And why's that?"

"Because your friends seem to very pragmatic people. Or maybe they're just stubborn and that's how it comes across to most people. But we're pretty obviously not most people. We have guns, we're not afraid to use them, as you saw last night, and what's more, we know exactly what you're friend Clarke came on board with last night." That seemed to get through to Bellamy. Jarin saw the shocked look on his face and kept digging. "We know about ALIE, and the second version her creator was working toward. Our current working hypothesis is that the chip your blonde friend was carrying is that second version and that it's been helping shape the 'Grounder' civilization for over 90 years." Jarin picked up the knife, leaning forward across the table. "But what I don't know is why you have it. We know Luna is dead because there isn't any other way you could have gotten it, but that doesn't tell me a damn thing about what you plan to do with it."

Bellamy yanked on the restraints, frustrated that at feeling of literally being chained to a table. "We have the damn thing because the new Commander is a bloodthirsty bitch who cuts off children's heads in their sleep. Oh, and the AI that blew up the damn planet is trying to kill us because it's the only thing in the world that can stop her. If Luna takes the Flame then we might find a way to kill the bitch and save the world!" Bellamy ended his rant in a huff, staring his captor, flinching when the knife slashed toward his hands. He looked up incredulously when his questioner cut the ties around his wrists.

Jarin, for his part, looked down and shrugged. "What? You want to save the world, I want to save the world, and our enemy wants to end it. I think that puts us on the same page, don't you?"

Jarin put his knife back in it's sheath along the left side of his belt and pounded on the door, which was promptly swung open by Lopez.

Jarin motioned for the still seated Bellamy to join him. "Well let's go man. The rest of your friends are already on their way."

Bellamy stood up. "On their way where?"

Jarin shared a bemused look with Rod before answering. "Honestly, I don't think you'd believe me if I told you. So let's go take an elevator ride."

* * *

Five minutes later Jarin, Rod and Bellamy stood in the elevator as the doors closed. Bellamy waited a moment before breaking the silent tension. "So where exactly are you guys from? You don't exactly look like any Grounders we've come across."

Rod looked down at Bellamy, his deep voice bellowing a single word. "Florida."

"Like, actual Florida?"

Another single word passed Rod's lips. "Yep."

Bellamy lapsed in a stunned bit a silence until his ears popped. He used his pinky to dig in this ear to try to deal with the uncomfortable sensation, looking sideways at Jarin. "How far down are we going?"

Jarin opened his mouth to answers, but stopped, trying to remember what Jenn had said. "You know, I don't think I actually remembered if Jenn told me. We were a little busy doing other things last time few times we were down here as I recall."

When the elevator slowed to a stop the doors soon parted, allowing the trio to walk toward the group huddled around the main console in the center. As they came up the VI was just starting to explain her function to the motley crew of Outpost soldiers, Grounder guards and station survivors.

"My designation is E.R.I.N, or Educational Robotic Interface Network." Jarin watched as Bellmay slowly approached the hologram, standing on it's pedestal above the crowd. He figured that he'd probably had the same look on his face the first time Jenn booted the program up for him all those months ago. The blue and black streaks on the humanoid body reminded him of something straight out of one of the old video games his father had been such a fan of playing. Looking over the group of people he turned his attention back to the VI.

"My function is to provide the children of humanity's future with historical data on the world in the event of a catastrophic civilization collapse, such as the one that occurred on May 10, 2052. My records have been updated with further information beyond that point by key members of the United States government, including the president, before she and the rest of the Cabinet succumbed to starvation after 2.64 years of survival inside this bunker." Staring straight ahead the VI spoke to no one in particular, issuing its most basic command prompt. "What would you like to discuss?"

The light from the hologram kicked off, momentarily plunging the room into darkness before Jarin spotted Jenn bringing up the lights that ringed the platform. She caught his glance and laughed, bringing the attention of the room to her. "The mood lighting is probably my favorite thing about this place. I would have killed to see the meeting where that one got pitched to the president." When she stepped into the light to fill them in the VI system Bellamy gasped audibly. Jenn looked at him quizzically until she realized what had freaked him out. "Right, you must be Bellamy." She came around the circle to bridge a bit of the distance gap between the two. "Apparently, we're second cousins."

Bellamy looked at Octavia and then back to Jenn. "What? How?"

Jenn looked at Jarin, not sure how much detail she should get into with people they'd only just met. He held up a hand, indicating he'd take things to start, and take the responsibility if command was going to get pissy about leaking intel.

"How much do you, or any on the stations, know about the program that resulted in the 13 stations?"

The station survivors looked at each other and shrugged before Clarke answered for the group, drawing a derisive group from the taller one Jarin guessed was Jasper. "Not much. There wasn't a lot in the computers about the immediate timeline up until the nuclear bombs fell."

Jarin nodded. "That's because they didn't want you to know. By 2135 most of NASA's operations were being jointly run by the government and private corporations. But since the companies fronted the money, they called the shots. As twisted as it is, the people behind the U.S. station programs viewed the whole thing as one big science experiment. While the rest of the world's nations launched a satellite more out of desperation than any real plan to survive a nuclear apocalypse," Jarin paused to circle around the group. "the U.S., on the other hand, after having helped screen the other nation's volunteers for genetic radiation immunity, instituted a massive program to screen their own population and begin moving as many as possible to government facilities across the country. The two largest centers were under the Denver International Airport and at Cape Canaveral, the launch site for both U.S. satellites. Our group is from the latter location. But our group was divided into three test groups that had no contact, and no knowledge of, the other groups due to some scientifically creative project organizers. One team to watch and monitor Polaris, the other to monitor the civilian satellite and the third group would actually go up in space."

Clarke quickly cut in. "But even if they kept our existence secret from each other you clearly knew about us after the bombs fell. So why didn't you contact us?"

"For starters, we didn't know how. After the bombs fell, all hell broke loose underground. The two ground crews eventually realized they weren't alone. So that kind of upset some things. Once it all settled down our grandparents realized that nuclear shockwaves had totally fried the primary and secondary communications arrays on the surface. And since we didn't have the power to attempt contact on the main radio relay all we could do was monitor with ground telescopes and track any falling pods with radar. By the time we had enough equipment and working systems the stations had merged, and were using an entirely new set of communications protocols. Our weak signal didn't reach you."

Bellamy wasn't entirely convinced. "Well that's all supremely interesting, mind explaining why she," He pointed at Jenn. "looks exactly like Octavia's and my grandmother?"

Jenn took back over, looking back and forth between Bellamy and Octavia. "Did either of you two know your grandmother was a twin?" While Octavia nodded, Bellamy shook his head. Jenn continued to explain. "Well, as the lieutenant said, the whole program was a big science experiment. And there are few things scientists liked more than having twins in a social experiment. Your grandmother, Jennifer, who I'm named after, went into to space, while her sister, my grandmother Elyse, stayed on the ground."

Bellamy looked stunned at the revelation, compounded by the fact that it seemed to barely faze his sister. Jenn picked up on the visual exchange between them. "Not to pry, but is your sister ok? The whole cousin thing just kind of bounced off her when we figured it out."

He shook his head. "No. She lost someone very close to her."

"Oh."

Jenn let the silence grow until Luna appeared behind the group, her entrance masked by the mini-lecture Jarin had been giving.

"I believe the history lesson is over." The whole group turned to face her as she spoke. Even standing beside a taller man in Jarin, she commanded the room. "It's time to discuss to discuss our enemy."

Clarke stepped forward expectantly. "Does that mean you'll accept the Flame?"

Luna eyed her for a moment before delivering her answer. "No."

"What?" Clarke eye's widened, clearly shocked at the woman's answer. "Why not?"

For her part, Luna stayed as level headed as ever. "My people came to this place because they were tired of the bloodshed, the mindless killing. That has not changed. The only thing capable of changing my mind would be-"

"But the world will end if you do nothing!" Clarke was certainly not willing to give up.

Jarin raised a hand to cut her off. "I don't think I'd go quite that far." He looked over to Jenn. "Don't suppose you got anything for us to work with?"

"Actually, I do." Jenn punched in a series of commands on the console, bringing up a display of The Flame. "I took some scans from the device Clarke was carrying when she arrived. It's a remarkable piece of technology. Based on what these four have told me about how the AI out there is infecting people with silicon chips, and the quasi-autopsy I managed on the infected guard, I think I may have a way to switch off the chips."

Jarin tore his eyes away from the display of the second AI. "How?"

"You remember that part of our mission was to try to find any technology we could salvage in Andrews Air Force Base?" Seeing him nod she continued. "Well, one of the things on the manifest are a whole wing of prototype railguns, just like the ones on the Gerald Ford back home. And since they're powered by one hell of an electro-magnet, I should be able to rig up an EMP canopy that would take any chip in range permanently off-line. As far as killing the AI itself, that's gonna be a git trickier."

Clarke spoke up as the specialist trailed off. "We might have something, well more like a someone, who can help with that. She's back in Arkadia"

Now it was Rod's turn to get his bearings. "Arkadia?"

The lanky kid hanging the back chimed in. "That's the name of our camp. I'm not such a big fan of the name."

Jarin turned to Rod. "Go round up the team and get 'em down here." Once Rod headed toward the elevator the lieutenant turned back to the group. "Time for my guys to get back to doing our job. We're gonna go get what we need from Andrews, pick up the rest of the station survivors, and then go kick all the asses. And by that I mean knock 'em out, kill an AI, and save the world. So no pressure."

* * *

A/N: And now we're gonna get to the good stuff. Everyone's on the same page and the endgame is set. Not gonna lie, I had a lot of this story sketched out pretty much right before and after we met Luna on the show, knowing that since the rig was in the opening credits they main cast would eventually get there. So some of the end game of the show is going to line up a bit with this story, but I think the twist on the end I have in mind is worth it. Please review!


	11. Chapter 11

**February 25** **th** **, 2150**

Private Williams slumped to ground as the group came to a stop in the middle of the forest, some 10 miles from their destination. He had dared hope that the evening break would have been the nightly camp, but after that brief respite they'd managed a few more miles before the daylight started to give way to night. This time he didn't want to even bother taking off the backpack until he heard an order from the lieutenant.

"We're camping here for the night. We're outta here at first light. Mr. Derrick, Corporal Grissom, and myself will take first watch. Everyone else, get some shuteye. We got another hike in the morning and I don't want to hear any bitching about people being tired."

Jason didn't need to be told twice, groaning as he slid the large pack off his shoulder. Not that he would admit it to the lieutenant, but he was certainly regretting slacking on the training regimen Taylor and Carver had put together for the team while they were on the rig. And he knew he wasn't the only one as he saw Brian and Trent looking visibly exhausted as they readied the camp site. The growing darkness was soon punctuated by several small light packs that the team had brought with them from the Outpost. While some of the others were busy breaking out their MREs, Jason was unrolling the small pup tent he shared with Brian; thankful he'd remembered to bring a pack a bag of that panther jerky from the rig. He planned on getting to bed early and making the night's sleep last as long as possible.

* * *

The next morning Jenn rolled over to her stomach atop her sleeping mat, she absentmindedly reached out from under the blanket to drape an arm across Jarin's back only to have her hand find solid ground where her boyfriend had slept the night before. Shaking off the remnant of sleep she threw off her blanket and quickly got dressed, exiting the tent to find the camp in full tear down mode. Not spotting Jarin among the group she quickly set about getting her section of the camp packed back up, listening to the chatter around her as she worked. It wasn't hard to pick Trent out of the crowd, his boisterous spirit unhampered by the morning.

"All I'm saying is that for three months I've been all like, 'Damn, this Luna chick is hot!'." Jenn shook her head at the remark, something Trent noticed out of the corner of his eye. "Got something to say?"

Jenn smiled wryly. "Just that maybe you haven't actually said that until know is you're afraid she'd hear and kick your ass? We all saw her and Jarin sparring, she's one hell of a fighter."

"Exactly!" Trent's reply was near immediate. "That's what makes her so hot!"

The two were interrupted when the group turned at the sounds of twigs snapping when Jarin, Sam, and Luna's men returned to camp. Jenn watched as Jarin made his way over to the station team on the far side of the camp, just out of ear shot. Getting back to rolling up the tent she missed him coming over until her he knelt beside her.

As they worked to pack the tent as tight as possible into the pack sleeve Jarin felt a need to cut into the silence. "Sorry for leaving early. Had to get up and scout the first part of the trip with Sam."

Jenn punched in the tent while Jarin pulled on the drawstring. "It's fine. Just got used to living on the rig is all."

Jarin motioned for her to help him square on the pack on his back. "Speaking of, I was thinking when we get back home that I'd talk to the commander about getting some new quarters. I don't either of our single units are going to do the job." When she didn't answer he mentally face palmed. "You want to stay on the rig, don't you?"

Jenn shrugged at the question. "Hey, if the outpost had a VI interface and robots you know where I'd be."

Jarin chuckled as he shifted the weight of the pack, turning to face Jenn. "Shouldn't have a hard time convincing Williams of that, what with your total wizardry with computers and that Luna's more likely to work with people she knows."

Jenn handed Jarin his rifle. "My thoughts exactly. The real question is if he'll let you join me."

He looked her dead in the eye. "No question, if you're leaving I'm going with you. That includes me resigning to do it."

His answer stopped Jenn in her tracks. They'd known each other since they were kids and she'd always known Jarin was literally born for the military. Hearing him say he'd up and quit just to be with her made her kick herself for even entertaining her doubts about their relationship. Unsure how to handle to more serious matters she looked around the camp. "I'll just go help Brian with the radio equipment. Talk to you later!"

Jarin shook his head and rolled his eyes as she walked through the camp. He heard someone walking up behind him, and he turned his head to the right to see David walking up beside him with Bellamy right behind his hulking frame.

"Trouble on the homefront LT?"

"Actually, no. At least, I don't think so."

David looked over at his friend knowingly. "You went all serious on her didn't you?"

Jarin shrugged. "Yeah, I kind of did."

Bellamy, standing to Jarin's left looked over at the two, and followed their gaze at the woman he quite literally yesterday found out was his cousin. "So you two like a 'thing'?"

David let out a deep laugh. "They're more like 'the very second we're back home he's gonna propose to her' type of thing."

Bellamy looked surprised at the revelation, something Jarin noticed. "Something wrong?"

"Oh, no, not at all. It's just a bit weird to hear people actually have a healthy relationship after the last few months." His words hung in the air as he looked over at his three friends.

David nodded. "I could imagine. I read through some of Sam's briefings. Brutal stuff."

Seeing everyone in the camp was packed up Jarin stepped up to the center of the camp. "We have nearly a dozen miles in front of us. Let's go see what's waiting for us."

* * *

Knowing the area better than the rest of the group, Derrick and his men scouted the trail ahead, and had already gotten a fire going at the base of a steep bank of rocks and dirt by the time Jarin and the rest arrived. While Clarke and company hunkered down with Derrick's crew, the Outpost soldiers stood in position, waiting for all the clear.

Jarin and Sam ditched their packs. While Sam was gulping down some water Jarin caught Derrick's attention. "We in the right place?"

At Derrick's nod Jarin and Sam quickly clambered up the steep hill to get a look at their surroundings. Once at the top the pair looked over the flat, broken forest in front of them. Patches of trees dotted the open landscape, but as both men internally noted, it was as through the forest behind them simply hit a wall right where they'd set up camp, transforming into an open plain on a dime. Looking through the binoculars Sam tapped Jarin's arm and pointed to his right. Grabbing the lenses, Jarin quickly focused in and saw what Sam did, not that it was hard by any means, as a vertical wall of vines stretching well over a hundred feet long tends to stick out, even in a landscape untouched by civilization for nearly a century.

Scrambling back down the hill Jarin gave a quick nod to the troops, who quickly started removing their gear, before he saw Derrick waver him over away from the group and jogged over to the man.

"Something wrong?"

Derrick nodded. "Probably."

"And that something would be?"

Derrick started walking along the bottom of the hill, away from the camp and Jarin followed. "I've been here once before, many years ago under the last Commander. He had taken his most elite guard away from Polis, trying to find weapons to fight against the Mountain. When we arrived, invisible guns cut through my friends. Only the Commander and me made it back to Polis."

"And I didn't hear this back at the rig because…?"

"I didn't know they were the same place at the time. Once we got here, I knew coming was a mistake." Suddenly, Derrick threw his arm across Jarin's chest, stopping him from advancing past the point where the hill began to die off into a flat plain. "Watch."

Jarin looked over at Derrick, who'd bent down to pick up a small white rock, maybe six or seven inches across. He watched as Derrick sent the rock flying into the air, but suddenly, before he could react, three gunshots rang out and the rock exploded into cloud of dust.

Standing there, trying to work out what just happened, Jarin missed Jenkins running up behind him with a med kit. "Who got shot this time?"

Jarin turned around, seeing the whole group running their way. Once they huddled around him, he nodded of the Derrick. "Do it again."

Once again Derrick let a rock fly high and away from the group, and once again the shots rang out, reducing it to dust.

Jenn, ever the scientist, was the first to guess what the situation was. "Gotta be sentry guns."

Sam snapped his fingers. "Yeah. Gotta be rigged to shoot down projectiles, probably enemy soliders as well, otherwise we'd be seeing a lot of animal bones past this hill."

In the back of the group Jason smacked his forehead, drawing the group's attention. "Everyone stay here for like, two minutes."

The two dozen strong group watched as the young soldier sprinted back to camp, exchanging confused glances as to what he had meant. The fact that he was carrying just his backpack when he came running back did little to answer their unasked questions. When he rifled through his pack, fishing out a small metal cylinder with a red LED on top it dawned on Jenn what he was thinking.

"Holy crap, that's genius!" She turned around to explain to the group, or more specifically, the station survivors and the men from the rig. "Back home we have a similar type of gun. We use these tags," she pointed to the cylinder that Jason was holding. "so that the guns recognize us as friendly, and don't shoot at us. It's been a while since we've ever even had to turn them on since we moved them to the _Gerald Ford_ 's main deck, but given the level of tech this base and our own probably shared when the bombs dropped, this just might work."

Clarke slid between Jasper and Bellamy, trying to see what was going on. "What might work?"

Jenn caught the roll of tape Jason tossed her from his bag while he held the cylinder against the outside of the pack so she could fasten it. She picked up the bag and looked over at Clarke. "This." She pressed the bottom of the cylinder and the LED blinked on, then she whirled around, letting the bag fly where Derrick had tossed the rock earlier. The group watched as it sailed through the air, bouncing and rolling along the ground for several feet.

"Well son of a bitch." Jasper was the first to remark on the situation, and turned to look at their new 'friends' from the south. "So now what?"

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry this got so late. Tried to get it up before RTX, but then I fell victim to the con crud which knocked me the hell out of a few days and then ramped up on Twitch and a few other things. But don't worry, still actively working on this guy, even if it will be slow going from here on out.**


End file.
